Open Road
by Gabriel Asas
Summary: A mysterious, pale haired woman with a painful past. A quest for salvation, and the legacy of a curse. My first fanfic, that's about as much as I can write here without giving something away, sorry *^_^* a Folken fic *Chapters 10 & 11 now up*
1. Nothing Is Ever Easy

**Open Road**  
  
bodyDisclaimer: *WARNING* If you can read this message it signifies that you have the intellectual capacity to determine that I, do not own The Vision of Escaflowne, its characters, settings, etc, etc, without being told. To view disclaimer, locate a wall, tabletop, or other hard surface and proceed to bonk your forehead vigorously against it several times. Repeat as necessary until disclaimer appears. We thank you for your cooperation.   
  


A/N: Okay, first chapter, kinda short, but they will _probably_ get steadily longer. This is my first fanfic ever, so please be gentle, *^_~* Anyway, reviews are encouraged, though not begged for, flames will be ignored or taunted mercilessly, depends on my mood. Constructive criticism welcome, though all out praise is preferred, *^_^* All right, that's about it for now, so enjoy! (Please?)

Your Friend, 

~Gabe~   
  


Chapter One - Nothing Is Ever Easy  
  


She had just finished packing up her camp when the rain began. The drizzle from the trees above plastering her snow white bangs to her forehead, the young woman, who looked to be about fifteen years of age, let loose a string of colourful insults under her breath, none of which a lady should know, let alone utter. Still, it had been quite awhile since she had been called a lady.   
  


As she thought of this, she tried to picture herself in the huge, lacy ball gowns that the high class _ladies_ of most countries were supposed to wear, and could barley suppress a chuckle. Gazing downwards at her own dark green wool breeches, simple white cotton shirt and brown leather jerkin, the young woman quickly dismissed that fantasy, slung her small pack over her shoulder and began her hike, surveying her surroundings with a grace that can only come with years of life in the deep forests. Thankfully, the rain could not penetrate her long oiled cloak and she was able to stay, with the exception of her head, warm and dry.   
  


"Blast!" She muttered, as an unusually large raindrop landed on the top of her hair, running down her neck, past the base of her long white braid, and under her cloak. Raising her deep hood to shield her from anymore rouge droplets, and cursing rain from here to the forth pit, the woman adjusted her pack and entered a small clearing in the dense woods. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the remnants of a campfire and large patches of flattened grass, probably where these people had set up tents, in the center of the small glade. Glancing warily at the surrounding woods, the woman slowly approached the soaking pile of ashes, and knelt, removing a glove and touching the ash with two fingers of her right hand, then rubbing the dark grey substance with her thumb and giving it a quick sniff.   
  


"They are close." She said quietly as she slowly stood. She had to avoid whoever it was at all costs. Gods know what they would do to her if they found her. She shuddered at the thought of her youngest sister, lying naked, broken, in a pool of her own blood, the liquid staining her pale flesh the most horrid shade. . . No. She could not think of that day. She had to think of getting away from here, she was done her mourning. Eyes scanning every shadow, the woman leapt nimbly into the tree branches overhead, crouching beside the cool trunk until the leaves ceased their rustling. She had an idea of how close they could be, and it was much too close for comfort. The trail of the party lead out of the clearing and headed south-east, luckily she needed to go north. As she sat quietly in her leafy sanctuary, debating whether it was safe to move on, or if she should wait until dark, a rustling in the nearby trees caught her attention. She held her breath, and watched as a figure emerged from the shadows, deep blue cloak concealing its features, although its height and the width of its shoulders seemed to establish that it was, most likely, male.  
  


The figure knelt in the exact spot where the woman herself had knelt only a few moments earlier, examining the ashes in the same manner. He raised his head as more rustling was heard in the surrounding forest, and six more figures emerged, one cloaked in the same manner as the kneeling figure, though in deep green, not blue, and the five others, uncloaked wolf men. The kneeling figure stood, wiping his ash soiled fingers on his black breeches, as he addressed the other cloaked person,  
  


"Balgus, someone was here, very recently. Poachers, I would wager, after the dragons. We must find them and stop them." His voice was deep, definitely male, and by the sound of it, used to command.  
  


"Yes, of course sir. They seem to have gone south-east. Should we follow now, or go back for reinforcements?" The other figure, Balgus? His voice was male as well, and his figure seemed bulkier than the other man. A warrior perhaps?  
  


"We should go after them now, they are very close, and if we wait they may get away." The man began to examine the trail the previous occupants of the camp had left. It was clear enough for a blind man to follow, if these people were dragon poachers, they were not very good, the woman thought. Suddenly one of the wolf men spoke up.  
  


"Sirs, someone is here. Now." He said, sniffing the air. _Damn_, the woman thought. She should have been more careful. She wasn't expecting wolf men, or anyone else, to notice her, not in this rain. She tried to decide whether to stay where she was, or to try to get away, but in the end, it wasn't her decision.   
  


"Where Ruhm?" The blue cloaked figure asked, his voice low.  
  


"I can't tell, my lord, wait. . ." More sniffing followed. The woman stiffened on her perch, a nervous feeling filling the pit of her stomach, as the rain on her brow mingled with the sweat now appearing there. Suddenly, _No!_ she screamed in her mind, as a small twig snapped under her boot heel. She felt her chest contract as seven sets of eyes tuned to stare directly at her hiding place, and she tensed her muscles in preparation to flee.  
  


Unsure who or what was in the tree above them, the men below followed the hand signals of the blue cloaked figure and slowly spread out to the surrounding trees, trying to contain whatever was above. Of course, the woman could see all that they were doing, so their attempts at stealth made no difference. She saw as some of the wolf men began to climb the surrounding trees, while some, including the green man, stayed on the ground to prevent escape that way. She also saw, or rather, she felt, as the man called Balgus began to quickly scale her tree. Fear began to leak into her mind, but she pushed it back. She could not be afraid. As quickly as she could without making too much more noise, she prepared to leap over to a nearby tree whose wolfman was having difficultly climbing. She had caught the other branch with her hands and was about to swing her feet up behind her when she felt a sharp tug on her right ankle. Spread horizontally between the two branches, she turned her head to see what had caught her foot, and came face to face with the figure of a heavily scarred man, shadowed by a deep green cowl. Balgus.   
  


The woman turned her head back to the front before he could see her face, and with one swift motion, kicked him squarely in the jaw with her free foot. He let out a slight grunt as her boot made contact with his chin, but his grip on her foot did not loosen.  
  


_Fine then._ She thought, as she quickly looked down to the approaching wolfman, who had finally gotten a good grip on the tree and was coming up towards her warily. _Damn_. It looked bad. Balgus was trying to pull her back towards him, but her grip on the other branch was like iron. He could not seem to catch her other foot, and its constant kicking at his face and hands was becoming quite irritating, not to mention painful.  
  


"Would you stop that!?" He muttered angrily to the woman.  
  


"Only when you let me go!" She cried hotly, landing one final kick to the side of his head, before slipping her captured foot out of its boot and springing quickly into the trees.  
  


"Blast!" He bellowed as the woman's long white braid disappeared into the foliage. He lost his balance and fell from his perch, just managing to catch the branch with his free hand before hitting the ground. He looked down at his other hand, and the mud-caked boot therein. It was dark brown, doeskin, and would have probably went up to just below the woman's knee. "Blast." He said again, this time under his breath, as he dropped swiftly onto the leaf litter below.  
  


"Balgus?" The blue cloaked man said, concern slightly altering his voice. Balgus removed his hood and held up the boot for the other man to see.  
  


"A woman, long white hair, brown cloak, young, she got away. She did this." He said motioning to his face, the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and out of his nose, several large bruises forming around his good eye and his jaw, and the large egg shaped lump slowly growing on the side of his head.  
  


"Are you alright?" the figure asked.  
  


"I'll be fine, my lord," Balgus said, a small, wiry grin on his face, "Whoever it was up there was very good though, fast," He continued, lightly rubbing the lump on his head. The man in blue let out a small chuckle as he patted his injured friend on the back, and then looked at the other men, all of who had come down from their trees and were surrounding the cloaked pair.  
  


"What should we do now, my lords?" One of the wolf men asked. The blue shrouded man seemed deep in thought as he scanned the surrounding forest. He stopped and looked back at his men.  
  


"Balgus, if you feel up to it, we will follow the poacher's trail for a few more hours, then head back to the palace if we haven't found them. A single woman alone in the forest, no matter how well trained, is nothing we have to worry about yet. We don't even know her intentions." he paused, looking up at he sun peaking through the canopy, "If we leave now, and time it right, we should be back home by sundown. Balgus?"  
  


"Of course, King Goau." The other man said with a small bow, "Lets go!" He yelled at the wolf men as the small party made its way back into the woods, following the trail left by the poachers into the shadows.   
  


She spirited through the trees, as fast as she could go without falling, and did not look back for pursuit for a good half glass. When she finally stopped to rest, her back leaning against the cool wet trunk of a large oak tree, her mind was still racing, faster than she herself had moved through the trees. While she sat there, waiting for her breathing to steady out, the woman mentally chided herself for being so careless. She shouldn't have been taken off-guard like that, she had trained for this, lived like this for years. She looked down at her now naked right foot, cold and scratched from the rough bark of the trees. What would she do now? She couldn't go to the Fanelian Royal palace with one boot, but she didn't have the money to buy another pair. She would **not **lower herself to thievery. The woman let out an exasperated sigh.  
  


_Nothing is ever easy. . . _She said to herself.   
  


A/N version II: Before you ask, one glass equals one hour. Zaibach may have clocks, but Fanelia and the woman's place of origin do not, well, not many. Therefore, a half glass is 30 minutes, a quarter glass is 15, and so on. I may use miets later as well, and some others I'll make up, hehehe. . . Anyway, this is Ta 4 Now. I don't know when I'll have the next chapter out, we get a lot of tests in October, and I have a major project due soon for Social Studies, blah blah blah. . . But I'll try, *^_^* Ta all

~Gabe~/body 


	2. Sanctuary

AN/ Aha! Didn't expect me back so soon did you? Well, don't get used to it, *^_~* This is chapter two, much more interesting than the first one, though still not great, but they will get better as we go, I hope. . . Still kind of short, or good? I'm trying, really. . . Big Revelation Alert, Big Confusion Alert, everything will be explained soon enough, promise *^_^* R&R, and as always, enjoy!

~Gabe~ 

  
  


Chapter Two - Sanctuary 

  
  


"I must be allowed to see the King!" It was getting near dusk when a strange figure cloaked in dark brown approached the Fanelian palace, demanding an immediate audience with the King.

  
  


"I told ye, King Goau has more 'portant tings ta do than ta be meetin' with lowly vagabonds such as yerself!" The old gate-guard said, becoming annoyed at the woman's persistence. At least, it sounded like a woman, the figure refused to remove her hood, and would not give her name. "Come back temorra."

  
  


"Vagabond! Why you vulgar, boorish. . ." The woman began fiercely,

  
  


"Watch it there missy," The sentry interrupted, warning in his voice, "Lessen' ye be wantn' ta spend the night in the palace dungeon, ye'll be outa here quick like, ye get me?" The man gave her a look that clearly said he wasn't fooling around. The woman let out an irritated huff, then turned smartly on the heel of her only boot, and stormed off into the shadows, muttering about barbarians and the rude. The guard watched her stalk off and shook his head, chuckling to himself.

  
  


In the shadows of the palace walls, the woman cursed under her breath.

  
  


"You couldn't even make this easy. . ." She said quietly, eyes glancing upwards. Scanning the nearby streets for anyone who could possibly see her, the woman removed a small three pronged hook tied to a strong length of rope from her pack, and proceeded to fling the hook over the plaster like wall. Giving her end of the rope a slight tug, the woman allowed herself a small grin, as she felt resistance from the other end. Bracing her feet against the barrier, the woman began to slowly pull herself upwards with gloved hands, pausing only once, halfway up, to adjust her grip. As she reached the top, the woman crouched on the small path that the sentries must walk to survey the inside of the castle. She was on the east wall, overlooking a beautiful garden. There were flowers of every variety and colour, some she had never even seen before, with small fruit trees scattered throughout, and in the center of all of this was a large white stone fountain, the sculpture, a large sea dragon, spewing a stream of water a good four feet into the air. The woman was simply awestruck by the garden's beauty. 

  
  


Suddenly, a movement among the flowers caught the her eye, and the woman turned her head just in time to see as a small boy with raven black hair and a dark red tunic come running towards the fountain, followed by the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The strange woman's hair was the same ebony as the young boys, but long and flowing, where his was wild and unruly. She wore a long, dark blue dress, with panels of cream and light blue flowers on the full skirt. The sleeves were wide and ended with a trim of more light blue flowers, as did the modest square cut neck. In her hands she held a small bouquet of blue and yellow blossoms, and the same flowers were woven into a circlet around her pale brow. She looked like a goddess of spring as she walked slowly towards the young boy, a small smile just touching her lips.

  
  


The pair sat on the small stone bench beside the fountain, the young boy giggling as he played with a blade of grass. The dark haired woman looked at the boy, for a moment, and then shifted her gaze to the shadowed flower bed they had just come from. A tall boy in a light green tunic and pale breeches strode out of those shadows, a large grin on his face. As the eyes of the woman on the wall fell upon him, her breath caught in her throat. He was so handsome, with his pale, turquoise hair flopping in his eyes, delight clear on his youthful features as he approached the pair. The young boy hopped off his seat and ran over to the youth, flying into his arms with a cry of glee. The older boy swung the younger around in a circle, before lifting him up and setting him gently on his strong shoulders. With the small boy laughing on his back, the young man gave the woman a quick kiss on the cheek before sitting beside her on the bench.

  
  


_They look so happy. . ._ The white haired woman thought from her perch on the wall. The image of her sister's blood flashed though her mind, and she felt tears well up in her eyes, tears she had tried so hard never to shed. _I'll never be like this. . ._ A voice in her mind said, _Never again. . ._ She shook her head, trying to banish the painful memories. This was not the place to break down.

  
  


Coiling her scaling rope once again, and placing it back into her small pack, the woman soundlessly slid off her perch and into a fairly stable looking pear tree below. Being extremely carful to stay in the shadows, the woman made her way slowly toward a large door in the southern most corner of the garden. She guessed that it would lead her inside the castle proper, where she could try and navigate to the throne room. Hopefully, the King would be there. She had almost made it to the doors, she could all but touch them, when she felt eyes boring into her back. She turned to see the dark haired woman, attention drawn away from the two boys, who were now reading a book the older one had brought, her eyes locked directly on the retreating form. 

  
  


_Damn,_ The pale haired woman thought again, frozen in place, one hand reaching out of the shadows toward the latch of the large doors. The dark haired lady slowly stood, eyes never leaving the other woman's cowled form as she began to step towards her. All of the white haired woman's instincts were screaming at her to flee, but she seemed frozen in place, staring at the approaching figure. The lady stopped a little over an armspan away, eyes searching the shadows which masked the other's face. She seemed so calm, for someone whose garden has just been invaded by a mysterious person. Her face held no fear or anger, only interest. It was eerily calming. Then she spoke,

  
  


"Who are you, and why have you come?" Her voice was soft and musical, but insistent. By this time the older boy on the bench had noticed the lady's absence, and was now approaching the pair, the younger child following close behind.

  
  


"Mother?" He asked the lady, slight concern in his voice as he regarded the stranger,

  
  


"Shhhh. . ." She said quietly, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder, eyes moving to meet his for only a second, then flickering back to the stranger's. "Who are you?" She asked again

  
  


"My name is Estrela das Sombra and I have come for an audience with the King of Fanelia." The white haired girl replied as calmly as she could manage.

  
  


"I am Varie, Queen of Fanelia. My husband, the King, is not here. He should be returning tonight however. Why do you need to see him, and why were you sneaking in to my garden instead of using the gate?" The darker woman's expression and tone did not change, the stranger was expecting her to be more upset at the intrusion, but she seemed untroubled by the entire incident. The younger woman's eyes widened in her hood at the other's title, and she brought both of her hands to her forehead, then to her lips, then to her heart, and knelt, head down, in front of the trio.

  
  


"My Queen, I apologize deeply for my invasion into your garden," She began, her voice almost shaking, "My purpose here is an urgent one, and the guard at the gate would not allow me to enter. I meant no disrespect, your Majesty." Her eyes never left the ground as she spoke, and she seemed afraid.

  
  


"Please, stand." Queen Varie said quietly, "You are not in trouble, young lady. Now please, tell me why you are here, I might be able to help" Estrela rose, but kept her eyes on the ground.

  
  


"I am here to request sanctuary," She began, voice still edged with fear. Queen Varie seemed to wait for something further, but when it was clear that no more would be said, she spoke up again

  
  


"Why do you seek sanctuary within Fanelia?" she inquired,

  
  


"Because, I had heard that the King of Fanelia had married a draconian woman, I presume that would be you, my Queen?" Varie nodded slightly, and Estrela continued, "I know that most people consider draconians to be cursed, no offense intended to you, your Majesty, but I thought, I hoped, that if Fanelia could accept a draconian, then perhaps I might be safe here as well." The Queen studied the girl a moment and the face obscured by the dark brown hood of her cloak, and then said quietly,

  
  


"Are you draconian, dear?"

  
  


"No, your majesty." Estrela began, shame thick in her voice. Her hands slowly raised to her hood, slowly pulling it back to reveal lightly tanned skin, dark pink lips, and a small, slightly pointed nose. Her eyes were closed, and appeared larger than a human's, though not so large as to make her face seem disproportionate. As her lids slowly opened however, they reveled eyes that could never be confused with a mortal man's. Orbs of solid black focused on Queen Varie's own eyes of deep burgundy. No white or iris was visible in Estrela's gaze. Her eyes looked like river stones, made her look almost animal-like, but they conveyed emotion like no stone or beast ever could, and now they seemed filled with pain. "I am Cisne" she said quietly, long white bangs blowing in the slight breeze. "I will understand completely if you wish me to leave, or even if you wish to have me killed. If I was in your place I'm not sure that I would want one of the _Soulless_ in my home." She said the derogatory name given to her people with shame and anger both in her voice, eyes falling back to the ground, anguish marring her features. 

  
  


"Oh, my dear, of course you may stay here." The Queen said warmly, hand reaching out to the young girl. Estrela began to shy away from the touch, but stopped herself, allowing the Queen to take her hand. She raised her eyes slightly, only to see Queen Varie staring at her with caring and understanding in her face. "You need not fear anyone here, I promise." The Queen smiled warmly, and Estrela caught herself grinning shyly back. 

  
  


"Come now," the Queen began, but was cut off by the blaring of trumpets from the castle gates, "That must be my husband. . ." the Queen looked up towards the sound, then towards the two boys behind her, both of whom were staring intently at Estrela "Folken, Van, lets go see your father, bring Lady Estrela with you. Your father should meet her, if she is going to be staying with us for a time." 

  
  


The younger boy quickly detached himself from the older's arms and ran to the Queen, taking her hand, and chancing a small wave at Estrela. Estrela smiled slightly and waved back. The older boy approached her, with his lips quirked upwards in a friendly manner and sparkling garnet eyes which seemed to be eternally laughing.

  
  


"My name is Folken Fanel, crown prince of Fanelia, and that little imp" he said, motioning to the raven haired boy with the Queen, "Is my younger brother Van." he paused and then continued, with a deep bow, "If I may, my Lady" He extended an arm for her to take, she seemed startled, "I don't bite," he said with a grin. She blushed furiously as she took his offered arm, and followed the Queen and the younger boy, Van, through the large oaken doorway.

  
  


"I'm really not a Lady," She said quietly, sending a quick glance at Folken as they walked.

  
  


"You seem more polite and ladylike than most of the noble women I've met," He smiled at her through his floppy bangs, "You should really give yourself more credit."

  
  


"Of course, your majesty," She said, dropping her eyes once again as they rounded a corner, and headed toward to more massive doors, these ones emblazoned in gold with the Fanelian Royal Crest.

  
  


"Now don't start that, I _beg_ you. I am a normal person, and I'm trying to stay that way. Please, just call me Folken." He said to her as the doors were opened to reveal a large brightly lit room, filled with tapestries, plush red carpets, and two large thrones on a platform. There were few people present, several servants scurried about preforming various tasks, and Estrela could just make out the figures of three men chatting in the shadows opposite their entry point, but other than those, the massive room seemed empty. 

  
  


Queen Varie passed her young son to a maid nearby, and walked onto the platform, taking a seat in the slightly smaller throne upon it, just as another set of doors flew open to reveal a party of seven men, two cloaked, with hoods thrown back, and five others, wolf men. 

  
  


Estrela felt a knot form in her stomach as she realized who they were.

  
  
  
  


Oh, sorry. Forgot about this. . . Standard disclaimer applies, it's Friday, I'm tired, nothing witty this time. I own nothing, except Estrela and the Cisne. . . which, btw, is Portugese. Cisne means swan, Estrela das Sombra means Star of Shadows. Yeah, kinda stupid I know, but it's the best I can do right now *^_^* Ta all

~Gabe~ 


	3. Introductions

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Estrela and her people, so please don't sue me or use them. There, I think I'm done here. *stalks off into shadows mumbling about carrots*

  
  


AN/ I got a review! I got a _REVIEW!!!! _*Does a little dance, then glances around nervously* Anyway, thank you all who read, whether you reviewed or not! Here is chapter three, which really shouldn't be out yet because I should have been doing my Health project today instead of editing this. . . I hope you all appreciate my sacrifice, I now have a very busy Sunday, or the wrath of Mr. Arbuckle to look forward to *^_^* Enjoy!

  
  


~Gabe~ 

  
  


Chapter Three - Introductions 

  
  


"Presenting King Goau, Ruler of all Fanelia, Balgus Ganesha, First Samurai General of the Fanelian Armies, The wo. . ." The young herald was cut off by a rough voice,

  
  


"Blast it man, the Queen knows who it is!" Balgus snapped, a bit harsher than he had intended. His head was throbbing severely, the bruises on his face had begun to turn dark purple, making his large scars even more pronounced, and the lump on the side of his skull had grown until it was now about the size of his fist. The herald seemed a bit put off, but was silent after the look Balgus gave him.

  
  


Queen Varie stood from her throne and managed to take a few steps forward before she was nearly crushed by the Kings strong arms around her. She looked up into his warm eyes, and smiled, a special smile, saved only for her love. Breaking the embrace the King offered his arm to his Queen as they made there way back to their thrones. Balgus and the wolf men continued to stand where they were until the King and Queen were seated, then, after a deep bow, moved off to the sides of the great hall, Ruhm and the wolves slipping into the back, Balgus joining the three other samurai generals to the right of the throne. Estrela was watching all of this, trying her hardest to disappear behind the older prince, who still held tightly to her arm, as they stood to the left of the dias, with young Van squirming in the arms of the governess sitting on a small stool next to them. 

  
  


"Now stop that!" The plump woman scolded the young prince, "Hush, the King is speaking!" This seemed to settle Van for a moment, as King Goau turned to his wife, slight smirk lightening his face,

  
  


"So, my Queen," He began, deep voice echoing through the vast hall, "Did anything of interest happen during my absence?" The Queen sent a small glance in the direction of the wounded Balgus, and said,

  
  


"I could ask you the same, dear husband. . .pray what has happened to the good General?"

  
  


"A small scuffle in the wood. We had just come upon the camp of a band of dragon poachers, recently abandoned, when we were alerted by the good wolf men of a presence in a nearby tree. Balgus was brave enough to climb the limbs and try to flush the creature out, and the fiend attacked him, it was truly heroic. . ." The King was interrupted by poorly contained laughter from the pack of wolf men near the great doors, and was finding it difficult to suppress a chuckle himself as Balgus stepped forward, face slightly reddened under the bruises.

  
  


"It was truly nothing, my Queen. A young girl, though well trained. She gave me a few kicks as I tried to pull her from a branch, and disappeared through the trees. Did manage to secure myself a trophy, though." He added ruefully, holding up the soiled boot with his left hand.

  
  


"This girl," The Queen began, before sending a fleeting glance at Estrela standing uncomfortably with her son, partially obscured by the shadows, "You would not have happened to have seen what she looked like?"

  
  


"Why yes I did, you majesty, but only a bit. She was cloaked, you see, in dark brown. I did see her hair however, as she fled. White like an old woman's, though she seemed no older than Prince Folken. It was quite long, tied back in a braid. From what I saw, her skin was not pale, though not dark, almost honey coloured, and she dressed as a man, in breeches, dark, perhaps black or dark green. I did not see her face clearly, so I can tell you no more." He bowed slightly as the Queen peered intently at him. She seemed to debate something in her mind, then her gaze shifted to the shadows beside the thrones, 

  
  


"That is quite good, thank you Balgus. Folken, please bring our guest forward." Estrela was so dumbfounded, listening to her own description, that she did not even notice as Folken lead her out of the security of the shadows until he had stopped directly in front of the dias. She could feel every eye in the hall, wolf man and servant alike, drilling into her back, while the scrutinizing gazes of both the King and General Balgus caused her to flush a brilliant shade of crimson. She quickly disengaged herself from the Prince's arm, and proceeded to touch her fingertips to her forehead, then to her lips, and finally to her heart before falling to both knees before the thrones, the same odd bow she had preformed in the garden earlier. Folken bowed as well, though not near as elaborately as Estrela had done, a simple bending at the waist. He made no move after that, clearly planning to stay beside the kneeling girl, before a hard glance from his father told him otherwise. Sending a fleeting wink at the figure on the floor, Folken grudgingly retreated back to the shadows next to the thrones. Estrela was alone.

  
  


The King sat silently, studying the woman kneeling before him. A quick glance at Balgus confirmed that this was indeed the girl from the forest, complete with long white braid, dark brown cloak, and missing boot. But why was she here? Before the King could inquire however, the Queen spoke up, her voice soft yet powerful as it echoed though the great room.

  
  


"Rise my dear," She began, motioning to the girl. Never lifting her head, the girl stood, though hesitantly, "Husband, may I present the Lady Estrela das Sombra, a traveler seeking sanctuary and Royal protection in Fanelia." The King seemed a bit taken aback, but recovered quickly and addressed the woman, who still stood silent and unmoving before him, the features of her bowed head obscured by long bangs.

  
  


"Lady, why do you seek refuge in Fanelia, and why did you attack my man in the woods?" The woman's voice was gentle, but laced with an underlying panic as she replied,

  
  


"For that incident, my King, I apologize with all my heart," She spoke with a slight accent, one which Goau could not place, "I did not realize who you were, Your Majesty, until you walked through those doors. When you ran across me in the forest, I feared for my life. Again, I am exceedingly sorry. My purpose here, as the good Queen has already explained, is to request sanctuary within your country your Majesty. I request this because I believe that the kingdom of Fanelia is a good and righteous place and that her King is fair and just. I could think of no other place to go where I would be as safe as within these walls, no other place where I would not be shunned and hated for my race." She lifted her head for the first time, large black eyes raising to meet the King's own gaze. A murmur ran through the small group of generals, silenced almost at once by a glare from Balgus.

  
  


"You are . . . Cisne?" The King asked quietly, trying to mask the shock in his voice. No one had reported seeing a Cisne in over one hundred and fifty years, and they were never, _ever_ seen outside of the forest. Contact with them was so rare that they are sometimes thought of as only myth, or perhaps extinct, but Estrela's presence here proved otherwise.

  
  


"Yes, your Majesty." She said quietly, head bowing once again. The King paused, then let out a great breath and shifted on his elegant throne, the gold inlay on the rosewood arms cool against his palms. When he finally began, his voice was surprisingly warm, with no trace of humiliating pity many people Estrela had met in the past seemed to smother their words with, the kind which she had found could hurt her as much as the hate in other's voices when they found out what she was. _What_ he said surprised her as well, as much as the Queen's welcome had done earlier,

  
  


"Well, we will need to know more of your history before we allow you to stay here indefinitely, which is a tale best saved until later. For now, you may remain here in the palace, under my protection, though you will have slightly limited access until we know more about you." Estrela raised her head once again, but this time astonishment and delight were the only emotions evident on her youthful face.

  
  


"Thank you, your Majesty," She said, wonder in her soft voice, as she once again preformed the strange bow, but this time bending only at the waist, not kneeling to the floor. 

  
  


King Goau then rose from his throne, a small smile brightening his features and addressed the entire room,

  
  


"If there is no more urgent business to contend with at the moment, I would quite enjoy spending some time with my Queen, and children. . ." When no one spoke up, the King offered his arm to his Lady wife and they left the dias, and continued through the large doors Estrela had entered before, young Van and the nursemaid in tow.

  
  


Estrela was so overcome with joy, the joy of finally being accepted, for however briefly, that she didn't even notice as Folken approached her, placing his hand lightly on her arm, causing her to jump. He grinned at her startled expression and offered her his arm once more. Her hesitation to accept was less evident this time, but it was still present, and unsettled Folken. Did she not like him, perhaps even fear him? Why? Folken glanced at her lightly tanned face, her delicate features, her eyes. . . They were. . .different, unique, but beautiful beyond words. He felt lost in their inky depths as she raised them to meet his own of dark garnet. She blushed under his gaze, eyes dropping once more to the floor. He spoke softly to her as they approached the large wooden doors,

  
  


"Why do you hesitate to take my arm, and refuse to meet my eyes? Do you dislike me?" His voice was filled something that Estrela could not recognize, and when she dared a glance upwards at his face, he seemed oddly flushed.

  
  


"I am not used to the attention, your Maj. . .Folken" Her eyes shifted from the floor to gaze straight ahead, unfocused, "Most people will not touch me, and I have learned to try and hide my eyes. . ." She trailed off, pain entering her features once again. They were now in a long, dimly lit hallway, its pale walls divided into several sections by the many beautiful tapestries and paintings adorning them and the huge velvet draped windows, which brought in the light of the newly risen moons. Folken stopped abruptly before one of these gorgeous windows, forcing Estrela to halt as well, and peered up towards the twin satellites, glowing brightly in the sable heavens. Then he turned back to face the lady on his arm, his free hand raising to gently cup her chin. He then lifted her head gently, compelling her eyes to meet his own. The moonlight glinted off her ivory hair, only to be soaked up into the depths of her dark eyes, those eyes. . . He let out a shaky breath before he spoke, and when he began, his voice was no more than a whisper,

  
  


"You will never have to hide your eyes here Estrela, I will make sure of that. You need not fear my touch, or anyone else's, and I certainly don't fear yours. I will not hate you for what you are, nor fear you because of _my_ ignorance. The people you have met, these who have instilled such dread in you, they were not men, they were animals, and you should not fear me, or anyone else here, because of them." Estrela said nothing, but her eyes did not leave his when he dropped his hand. All of the shame and pain had left her face, and she raised a slender hand to brush an unruly strand of pale teal hair away from his eyes, fingertips lightly brushing his brow.

  
  


Suddenly, their trance was broken by a slightly raised voice from the direction they had come from. Balgus approached the pair from out of the shadows, his bruises and scars clearly visible in the moonlight.

  
  


"Prince Folken," He began, his voice deep, "I will escort the Lady Estrela to her quarters, you should go and greet your father."

  
  


"There is no need for you to trouble yourself Balgus, I will only be a moment." The Prince's voice betrayed nothing of what had just happened, although he still seemed a bit flushed.

  
  


"I insist my Prince," Balgus's voice was not harsh, but he seemed to get his point across, "Your father is looking forward to speaking with you. He is with your mother and Prince Van in the first garden." Folken seemed slightly irritated with the samurai, but quickly collected himself and put on a stiff mask of composure.

  
  


"Of course, General Balgus," he said, a slight edge in his voice. He released Estrela's arm, but kept hold of her elegant hand, bowing stiffly at the waist, and bringing her long fingers gently to his lips, "If you will excuse me, my Lady Estrela." He caught her large eyes with his own before releasing her hand and striding silently into the shadows. Estrela's gaze lingered for a moment on the darkness which Folken had disappeared into, before shifting to the scarred face of the samurai. His expression was hard, but his eyes betrayed a warmth which calmed her nerves and relaxed her mind. She seemed startled when he spoke up, as if she didn't expect him to acknowledge her,

  
  


"Lady, I will show you to your room now." Unlike Folken, the samurai did not offer her an arm, instead he turned and walked briskly into the shadows, in the opposite direction the prince had gone. Estrela had to dash to catch up to the large man, but once she did she had no trouble matching his pace, her long muscular legs equaling his own huge strides flawlessly. For a few moments neither spoke, but then Balgus took the offensive once again,

  
  


"I am curious lady," He said, glancing down at her petit frame. She wasn't quite as tall as the older prince, but her lean body betrayed finely toned muscle. Balgus painfully remembered the kicks she had so fiercely dealt earlier that day, and found what he had seen of her strength and speed truly amazing, "Who was your teacher? I had heard that the Cisne were a peaceful people, abhorring violence in all forms, and yet your performance today, and the sword at your hip seem to demonstration otherwise. . ." She gazed up at the General, trying to decide how much to tell the large man. When she began, her voice was low, the memories seeping into her mind causing her throat to contract, 

  
  


"It is true. My people are peaceful. I learned how to fight after I had left them. It was difficult to find someone willing to teach one of my kind, but my master was unique. He was a doppleganger, Lid Vieta. I trained with him for years, he was truly incredible. His speed was phenomenal, you could barely see him move when he fought, and his strength. . . as a rule, dopplegangers are three or four times stronger than a normal man, but my master was at least twice that, probably more. I learned everything from him, trained with him, watched him. . . it was the happiest time of my life. But then one night, he left. I awoke one morning to find him gone, along with all of his things, except this sword." She motioned to the blade at her hip, and then paused beside a large window and brought the sword out of its sheath, allowing the samurai to examine its craft. He made no move to touch it, but his eyes seemed to study every inch of its long, slightly curved blade, the ripples of the folded steel clearly visible in the moonlight. Its grip was wrapped in what looked to be sliver wire, the guard was made of an odd black material, gleaming in the dim light, and not appearing to be wood, metal or stone. Carved into it were small vines and leaves, inlayed with more sliver. The pommel was a small orb of this black substance, a large silver leaf visible on its top. The craftsmanship appeared to be excellent, and the sword itself was the most beautiful thing the old samurai had ever seen. 

  
  


Replacing her blade in its sheath, Estrela grinned at Balgus's expression, "Beautiful, isn't it?" Balgus blinked, the woman's voice bringing him out of his reverie.

  
  


"Yes. . .incredible" He blinked again, and then resumed his walk. Estrela chuckled softly as she followed.

  
  


AN II/ This is for Lola, thanks bunches for your review, I feel all warm and squishy inside. . . ummm . . . wait, forget that, a little bit ewww. . . *cough* After I read your comment, I looked back at this chapter, unedited and burning a hole in my floppy, and I found it quite interesting that you figured out that there would be a doppleganger in this story sooner than I did, *^_^* Heck, I was on the fifth chapter before I went back and filled that in, Hitomi moment, ne? Thanks again, your support really means a lot!

Peace and Love

~Gabe~ 


	4. Nightmares and Memories

AN/ Hullo All! I'm BACK!! Yeah! *crickets*. . . *cough* Anyway, this is chapter four, very roughly edited, very boring to write/edit. I'll try to get the next one out sooner, but no promises.*^_^* Oh, major thank-you's go out to all of my four reviewers, I love you guys, really. In fact, this chapter is dedicated to all you guys, dragons*shadow, M. Silvermane, Iya, and Lola, Hi Guys! Well, that's all for now, so Enjoy!

~Gabe~

  
  


Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne, its characters, settings etc, but I do own Estrela das Sombra and the Cisne. I also don't own The Rankin Family or their song, The River, nor do I own Rawlins Cross, or their song, Wild Rose. So there *blows rasberry*

  
  


Chapter Four - Nightmares and Memories  
  


Estrela collapsed onto the down-filled mattress. The bed was huge, with royal blue sheets and a comforter embroidered with the Royal Fanelian crest. The room itself was a good size, with the large bed against one wall, a small dark stained cherry wood desk, two plush navy armchairs and a large armoire against another. There were two large windows facing eastward, their blue drapes drawn closed, with a small stone fireplace between them, and a dark wooden door opposite which lead into a small bathroom. Estrela rose from the comfort of the bed, walking over to the windows and pulling the long curtains open to reveal a breathtaking view of the kingdom below. The soft light of the twin moons reflected off the white stone walls of the buildings and the cobblestone of the streets, contrasting with the gloom of the shadows and bathing everything in an eerie blue glow.   
  


Pulling her eyes away from the window, Estrela made her way towards the bathroom, and let out a sigh of pleasure as she saw what was inside. A tiny room in white and yellow tile, with a small privy, a low porcelain sink below a large mirror, but most importantly, in the middle of the room, a large, white bath tub, filled just over halfway with steaming water. _Bless the speed of servants. . ._ She thought as she unfastened her cloak, its dark colour failing to mask the mud and road dust caked to it. She hung the garment on one of the little hooks along one of the walls, and proceeded to untie the laces of her jerkin, removing the multitude of throwing knives hidden within and placing them gently on the floor, before hanging the supple leather vest on the wall beside her cloak, followed in turn by her sword and belt. Slipping her once white shirt over her head, Estrela examined its many small tears and stains before throwing it into an untidy pile in one corner of the room, soon joined by her dark green breeches, and remaining boot. She had retrieved its twin from General Balgus, but had left it sitting next to her bed before she had come in here. Unstrapping the daggers from around her calves, Estrela placed them on the pile of soiled clothing, and made her way toward the awaiting bath. Testing the water with a hand, Estrela determined that it was still very warm, but had slowly begun to cool from the torrid pool it had been when she had first entered. Easing into the welcoming water, Estrela felt the tension in her muscles release almost immediately, and soon felt her eyelids flutter shut.  
  


_She was back in her village, a small group of cottages in the middle of a large clearing, surrounded by deep forest on all sides. She was happy, running and playing with her brothers and sisters, but then the men came. Tall men, with dark hair and frightening eyes, filled with hate and anger. Fire! The village was burning, her home. . .The screams, her sisters, blood, flames, screams. . ._  
  


Estrela sat bolt upright in the tub, a film of sweat popping on her furrowed brow. She had tried to forget, forget the pain, the fear. Her sisters, flames. . . _NO!_ She would not think of that again. It was over. She could not go back.  
  


Reaching behind her, Estrela undid her long braid and dunked her head into the now room temperature water, plastering the alabaster strands to her head and back. Reaching for the cake of fragrant soap on the side of the tub, Estrela scrubbed her hair until she could no longer feel the sweat and dirt, and then poured the large jug of water beside the tub over her head, trying to remove all of the lather from her long white tresses. When her hair was adequately rinsed, Estrela slung it over the back of the bath, creating a rather large puddle on the tiled floor. Taking the soap in her hand once more, Estrela began to scrub her body, days of travel grime turning the once clear water disgustingly murky.  
  


"This is ridiculous," She grumbled, "I bathed the day before yesterday in that forest pond. I could not have gotten this dirty in two days. . ." She huffed as she stood, gazing down at the grayish water with disdain. She reached for the large white towel on a shelf beside the tub and stepped out of the water. Rubbing her hair fiercely with the cloth, then wrapping its soft material snugly around her body, Estrela made her way out to the bedroom, pausing only once to retrieve her sword from its hook.  
  


Estrela walked slowly over to the bed, noticing the nightgown and robe neatly laid out upon it. _They must have brought them while I was bathing,_ She thought as she looked at the light silk shift and soft terry robe. The gown was light green, sleeveless, with small pink flowers embroidered around the neckline. The robe was a deep burgundy, with no decoration.   
  


Letting the towel drop, Estrela slipped the gown over her head, ignoring the robe for the moment, and knelt to retrieve her small pack where she had dropped it beside the door. Plopping into one of the large armchairs, Estrela lifted the pack's flap and loosened the drawstrings, then shoved her hand into the depths of the bag. After rummaging around for a few moments, Estrela finally felt what she was looking for. Removing the two bundles of cloth, she stood, placing the larger on her bed, and brought the smaller over to the desk. Lowering herself into the other chair in front of the table, Estrela unwrapped the wad of cloth to reveal a brush and mirror set made of ivory, with a flying dragon carved on the back of each, the brush's enameled in green, the mirror's in black. She began to run the stiff bristles through her silky hair, no matter what happened, knots never seemed to tangle the strands, the brushing was only to add shine. When she was done with the brush she re-braided her hair and tied it with a green ribbon from her pack, examining her loose, chin length bangs in the small mirror. Carefully placing both the brush and mirror back into their protective cloth, Estrela put the dark ball into her sack and climbed beneath the soft sheets of the bed. The larger package she had removed from her bag was lying on the floor beside her, still unopened. She lay there for quite some time, staring up at the blank ceiling, unable to sleep. Her mind was racing, memories from the past painfully surfacing, only to be fiercely pushed back into the recesses of her mind before they could play out. Then, her mind turned to something completely unexpected. The handsome boy with the kind smile and the laughing eyes. Whispered words in a moonlit hallway, his hand on her face, his pale hair glimmering in the soft light, flopping over into his garnet eyes. . .  
  


What was she thinking? No one would ever love her. . . She was a monster, one of the Soulless. Those demons who would suck away men's spirits, with their evil dead eyes. . . No, she was imagining things. Folken was a nice person, he was just trying to be kind, make her feel safe. That was different than having feelings for her. She wasn't even sure what she felt for him. Anyway, he was a prince, destined to marry some high class lady or princess,  
  


_You seem more ladylike than most of the noble woman I've met. . ._ His words echoed through her mind. _He was just trying to be kind,_ she told herself again, but even her thoughts sounded hollow.  
  
  
  


"Argh!" she muttered, turning over on the mattress so she could stare out of the large windows, the pair of moons just hovering above the horizon. The sky was beginning to lighten and this astonished Estrela. _How long have I been laying here?_ She thought, eyes never leaving the horizon. _It must be, oh, four glass in the morning, and I didn't sleep. . ._ She grunted as she threw back the covers of the bed and swung her long legs over the side. The wooden floor was cold against her bare soles as she padded towards the bathroom. Picking up her pack on the way, Estrela entered the small room, her dirty clothes still in a pile in the corner with her knives laying atop them. After taking full use of the privy, Estrela approached the small sink filled with water and splashed her tanned face. The liquid was numbingly cold against her flesh, causing her to gasp, but it woke her up. Patting herself dry with another towel from the low shelf, Estrela picked up her pack and searched through it once again, this time pulling out only the brush, and a clean change of clothing. She pulled on pair of loose black breeches, and a dark violet shirt with a square neck, her best. It had no rips or stains, and the cuffs and neckline had a pattern of intricate knot work in silver thread. She quickly redid her hair, this time tying the end with a black ribbon, and, using her soiled green breeches, tried her best to remove most of the mud from her boots before slipping them on her feet and fastening her sword belt around her waist, though keeping the sheathed blade in her hand. Before leaving the bathroom, she replaced several of her daggers, but, since she was not wearing her jerkin, she was forced to leave some of them behind, only taking a few up her sleeves, in her boots, around her calves, and behind her belt. Leaving her bag, her jerkin, her remaining daggers, her sword, and her cloak in the armoire, Estrela made her way toward the door leading to the hallway, she picked up the large wrapped bundle she had removed from her pack the night before and headed out into the corridor as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake anyone still asleep.  
  
  
  


She paced lightly down the hall, boots making no sound against the hard wooden floors. She made a left as she came to an intersection, hoping she remembered the way from last night, and sighed in relief as she came to the large doors which lead to the quiet garden she had tried to sneak into the day before.  
  


Bundle under one arm, Estrela slowly opened one of the massive door, wincing visibly when it creaked, and slipped out among the beautiful flowers of the garden, eyes widening at the sheer beauty of the park in the dawn light.   
  


Walking slowly down the narrow path, Estrela stopped before the huge fountain, the water still surging from the stone dragon's gaping maw. Instead of taking a seat on the stone bench the Queen and her sons had shared the night before, Estrela knelt on the hard cobbles of the walkway, back resting against the low wall of the fountain, and nimbly unwrapped the package in her hands, folding the tan cloth neatly and setting it on the ground beside her.   
  


The object now in her hands appeared to be a musical instrument, about the length of a man's hand and forearm, with eight strings of various width running from a carved, rectangular piece of wood, down a long wooden neck, over a triangular hole in the body of the thing to stop slightly below the hole at an ivory bridge. The body of the instrument itself was tear-shaped, made of light wood, its front painted with swirls of colour, and many beautiful white birds with flowing tails. It was truly gorgeous to look upon.   
  


But Estrela did not stop to gaze at its beauty for long. Closing her onyx eyes, Estrela's left hand moving to the neck of the instrument, and her right beginning to pluck the strings above the hole. The sound which flowed from the object was lilting, sounding almost like a harp, almost like a lute, but at the same time sounding like neither. A beautiful but eerie melody broke the silence of the garden, pairing with the early morning light, and adding to the unusual feel of the place. Then a voice joined the sound of the strings, soft and melodious, but seeming to fill the entire garden with a soothing aura. The song had never been heard in Fanelia, and all whose ears it reached were filled with a sense of calm, even those asleep,  
  
__

_When you cross that river_

_The trees they will bow down_

_The sky will open up to you_

_The lark will sing your song   
  
_

_When you cross that river_

_The path will follow you_

_And the winds the will caress your lips_

_And the fires they'll burn strong  
  
_

_Until then. . . _

_The pastures seem greener on the other side_

_Alexander don't bide you time uneasily. . .  
_  


Estrela stopped her singing, her fingers frozen on the strings as a twig snapped near her. Ebony eyes snapped open, to reveal an embarrassed looking Folken, halfway between sitting and standing in the grass beside the path. The twig which had given him away lay broken under the toe of his left boot, and his face was growing increasingly redder as Estrela silently studied him.  
  


"I am quite sorry if I startled you, my lady," He began, abandoning his plan to sit quietly in the grass, opting instead to move over and sit on the fountain wall beside her. "I heard your music, and I had to see what being could make such a beautiful song. I did not wish to disturb you."   
  


"It is quite alright, my Prin. . .Folken, I hope I did not wake you," She glanced up at his siting form beside her. His eyes seemed to study her, soaking her into their depths. She shifted her gaze back to the instruments in her arms, tracing the wing of a bird with one slender finger. "I had trouble sleeping, and playing always soothes my mind. I am not very good unfortunately."  
  


"My lady, I have never heard music so beautiful, you are truly incredible, and much too modest," She blushed furiously at that, and he continued, "I am curious however, to what caused you trouble sleeping? Were your rooms unsatisfactory?" He sounded truly concerned, which caused Estrela to flush a deeper shade of crimson, then pale at the thought of her nightmares.  
  


"No, of course not Folken" She said quickly, "My rooms were wonderful, I have never slept in such luxury. It was nightmares, memories. . ."She trailed off, her voice becoming lower as she spoke. Folken sensed something private, and hastily changed the subject,   
  


"What is that, if you don't mind me asking," He inquired, motioning to the instrument in her hands, "I have never seen anything like it before, it is lovely." The last of his comment was made with his eyes locked with hers, and, though Estrela thought it impossible at this point, her flush deepened even further. _I'm probably purple. . . _She thought bitterly  
  


"It is called a _Chall,_" She said, her accent deepening on the foreign word, "It is unique to my people I believe. They are not usually so elaborately decorated. This one was a gift, a long time ago."  
  


"From who, if I may be so bold?" Estrela swallowed, and then said quietly,  
  


"My betrothed. . ." Folken's face dropped, hurt filling his dark eyes, but he quickly covered this with a forced smile and said as brightly as he could manage,  
  


"Well, it's beautiful, and whoever gave it to you is a lucky man." Folken made a move to stand, the pain in his chest becoming to great for him to stay, but Estrela's soft voice restrained him,  
  


"Lucky indeed. The betrothal ended when I was banished from my village, I was no longer Cisne, and thus could no longer marry a Cisne." Her voice betrayed bitter feelings she thought she had shed. Folken knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he spoke up anyway. Ignoring the mention of banishment for a moment, he knelt beside her and asked softly,  
  


"Did you love him?" She snorted, which startled him,  
  


"Love? He was a chieftain's son, I had no choice in the matter. And had I gone through with it, I would have spent my entire life as a chieftain's wife, dealing with the problems of all of the women in a village, stuck in a dark little cottage all day and night. No independence, no adventure. I would be married now, to a man nearly twice my age, whom I would had never met until our wedding." Her dark eyes were filled with unshed tears, a pain she had tried to forget.   
  


She jumped as she felt arms around her shoulders, Folken pulling her towards him. She did not resist, instead she buried her face into his shoulder, soaking his dark blue shirt with bitter tears, her body shaking with the sobs she had promised never to release. Folken hugged her close to him, his hands rubbing her back gently as he rocked he back and forth. When she finally stopped her weeping, her face lifted to meet his own, tears still staining her cheeks, and quickly released herself from his hold, standing and picking up her _chall_ from where she had dropped it. 

"I am so sorry, my prince. That was stepping completely over my bounds. I apologize if I have offended you," Her voice sounded embarrassed as she turned to flee the garden.  
  


"Estrela," Folken said, his voice stopping her in her tracks. She turned to face him once again, but her eyes were focused on his boots instead of his face. He gently took the _chall_ from her hands and set it on the wall of the fountain. Then he took her hands in his own, pulling her closer to him. She lifted her eyes to meet his as he began to speak,  
  


"Estrela," He said again, this time just above a whisper, "Thank you for trusting me with that. Never be ashamed to show emotion, it is what makes us alive. I will always be here, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I never want you to bottle those feelings up inside yourself. They will drive you mad." He said this with such feeling and such sincerity in his voice, that Estrela fell into his embrace once again,   
  


"Thank you, Folken," She murmured into his chest, his arms so strong around her back.  
  


"Come on then," He said after a moment, "The cooks should have something ready by now, we should go get some breakfast." He smiled at her as she stepped away from him, a warm, friendly smile that made her grin back, wiping the tears still on her cheeks. She retrieved her _chall_ and quickly wrapped it in its cloth. Tucking the bundle under her arm, Estrela walked toward Folken, expecting him to offer her his arm, but instead he placed his arm across her shoulders, bringing her close to him as they began to walk. She was a bit self-conscience walking through the hallways looking so. . . friendly with the crown prince, but she soon relaxed, even resting her head lightly on his shoulder. In the kitchen they found a loaf of bread, a piece of hard cheese, and several varieties of fruit, with which they returned to the garden and ate together beneath the huge stone dragon.   
  


After they were done eating, Estrela unwrapped her _chall_ once more, and began a different tune than before. This one was cheery and wild, where her earlier song had been slow and melodious. She began with a lighthearted melody, and then her gleeful voice filled his ears,  
  


_Sunrise in the morning, birds singing on every tree_

_A greeting and a warning. The song they're singing is, Be Free_

_Young rambler on the roadside, All around the world he goes_

_Never knowing what he will find, In his quest for the great unknown  
  
_

_Wild rose in the forest_

_Wild rose on the moor_

_Dawn mist on the mountain_

_Combers crashing on the shore  
  
_

_We rejoin out hero, As he wanders from door to door_

_A heart full of legend, dreams of love on a foreign shore  
  
_

_Wild rose in the forest_

_Wild rose on the moor_

_Dawn mist on the mountain_

_Combers crashing on the shore  
  
_

_Wild rose in the forest_

_Wild rose on the moor_

_Dawn mist on the mountain_

_Combers crashing on the shore. . . _

As the strings fell silent, Estrela looked at Folken and grinned, "So, what did you think?"  
  


"That was. . . amazing" He had a small, very soft smile on his face, his eyes locked on hers,  
  


"No, really?" She asked sheepishly,  
  


"Really." He said, nodding his head for emphasis. Her grin widened as she looked down at the instrument in her hands, with its mulitcoloured swirls and elegant birds. Folken slid closer to her on the bench, his arm wrapping around her shoulders again, as he gazed around at the beauty of the flowers around them. His eyes shifted back to Estrela as she placed her head lightly on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He smiled again, a contented smile, as she shifted into a more comfortable position beside him.

  
  


AN II/ Okay, a bit mushy? No? Good, 'cause it's probably going to get worse, *^_~* Like I said before, very roughly edited, so if anything didn't make sense, just tell me. Thanks,

  
  


Peace out

  
  


~Gabe~


	5. Painful Reflection

Disclaimer: I do not own "Vision of Escaflowne", its characters, settings, etc. It's sad really, I probably never will either. . . *grumbles* Now I'm just depressed, I hate disclaimers. . .   
  


AN/ Wohoo! And we have Chapter Five! Before anyone tells me, yes I know that Folken was thirteen years old when his father died, I changed the timeline slightly to suit my purposes. It is now early summer the year Folken turned fourteen, he'll still be fifteen when he goes to fight the dragon, I think *^_^* Anyway, enjoy and review

Thanks Everybody

~Gabe~  
  


Chapter Five - Painful Reflection  
  


They sat there in the garden for sometime, simply enjoying one another's company. Folken began to whistle a soft tune, it wasn't cheery, but it wasn't mournful, and for some reason it made Estrela feel extremely tired. As the sun had risen, they had moved from the stone bench to the shade of a nearby tree, laying side by side in the cool grass, staring up at the canopy of leaves above them. As Folken whistled, Estrela remembered that she had not slept last night, except for her nap in the bath, which had not left her feeling rested to say the least. She felt her eyes grow heavy, her lids begin to droop, and before she knew it, she had fallen into a deep, and blissfully dreamless slumber. 

Folken noticed her slowed breathing, and stopped his whistling to glance over his companion. Her eyes were closed, her breath was slow and steady, and all of her muscles seemed relaxed. She was so beautiful when she was asleep. . . _Whoa, slow down Fanel_, A voice in his head warned. He smiled to himself as he looked back up towards the branches above, swaying gently in the breeze. _She is so beautiful. . ._ He thought.  
  


"Prince Folken!" Came a cry from the opening garden doors. Estrela shot upright, wide awake instantly. Folken placed a hand on her shoulder as he slowly sat up, silently cursing the owner of that voice. "Prince Folken!" It said again. A young page, Gennan, Folken thought, stuck a blond head through the large doors, his eyes searching the garden frantically.  
  


"Yes Gennan?" Folken replied, standing from under the tree and offering an arm to Estrela. "What is it?" The boy looked startled at the sudden appearance of the Prince from the shadows, his voice sounding very flustered as he bowed and addressed the pair, who were still only partly visible beneath the bows of the huge tree.  
  


"Prince Folken, the King has requested your presence in his study immediately. He also requested that you to bring the Lady Estrela with you." The boy was new to the palace, the son of some lesser noble from Asturia. He had come to Fanelia to work as a page, probably hoping to advance to a squire within the next few years, and then perhaps someday become a knight. He looked to be about eight years old, though he was in fact, closer to Folken's fourteen. The blond boy was very small in body, almost scrawny and his head only came to the Prince's shoulder, with huge green eyes and pale golden locks which hung down below his chin. He was dressed in a page's uniform, red tunic with dark blue surcoat and breeches, a royal Fanelian crest embroidered on the left breast of the coat, the symbol of Asturia and his family's own white rose and green spear adorning the right. Estrela thought he looked cute, and it was all she could do to stop from snickering when he bowed again, his curly hair falling into his youthful face and causing him to sneeze. Folken smiled kindly as the lad lifted his head, with cheeks flushing the same deep crimson of his tunic.  
  


"Thank you Gennan," The Prince said, trying very hard to keep the laughter out of his voice, "We will go at once." The boy gave a smaller bow before turning quickly and dashing out of the garden. As the large doors closed, Estrela let loose the fit giggles which had threatened to burst her. Folken looked down at her as they began their walk back into the palace, chuckling under his breath.  
  


They seemed to walk for hours, weaving though the bright hallways of the castle, talking and joking in low voices, though in reality it was only a few moments before Folken and Estrela had stopped before a large wooden door. The prince knocked lightly before twisting the brass latch and pushing the door open, to expose a medium sized room with dark wood paneled walls and lush green carpets. There was a large oak desk to one side, framed by two huge widows and many bookcases, a broad stone fireplace opposite with more bookcases beside it, and several slightly worn, but comfortable looking armchairs scattered about. In one chair, Queen Varie sat, an epitome of beauty in a pale yellow dress slashed with a deep rose, her long ebony hair flowing loosely around her shoulders and down her back. General Balgus filled another chair, wearing his samurai uniform, though not his sword, and a gruff expression. The King sat regally behind the large desk, staring at his oldest son and the young woman on his arm above steepled fingers. He motioned for them to sit. Folken took a chair beside his mother, Estrela followed in a moment, after bowing deeply to the entire gathering, then sinking into a rather overstuffed chair to Folken's left. He glanced over at her, her dark eyes were locked on the floor in front of his father's desk, slender hands clasped tightly on her lap. He shifted his gaze to his father, sitting quietly in his favorite chair, wearing a simple off-white tunic and black leather jerkin, tooled in gold and red on the breast with two roaring dragons. His intense eyes were locked on the motionless figure of Estrela, his dark brows furrowed in an odd manner. The King let out a deep breath, leaning back in his chair before he spoke,  
  


"Well," He began, "I believe the first order of business, my lady, is for us to learn the reason for your request of sanctuary,"  
  


"My King. . ." Estrela began, lifting her eyes,  
  


"No," The King interrupted, "Not why you requested sanctuary _here_, I want the reason why you need sanctuary at all. I had heard that the Cisne never leave their forests, and used magicks to hide and protect themselves from outsiders. Why have you left your people?" His words were not harsh, they were actually very kindly, but they ripped through Estrela's chest like daggers. She had known that this was coming, but it still pained her to think of her people. She let out a ragged sigh, shoulders shaking slightly, as she began her tale,  
  


"It is true your Majesty, that the Cisne rarely leave the forest. However, I was banished by my people a number of years ago. They put me out of my village, told me never to return, and even wrote me out of our chronicles, which are collections of scrolls kept by an elder in each village, records of everything about our lives. To my people, I no longer exist, and I never did. It is the only punishment fitting the seriousness of my. . .crime." He voice seemed to falter on the last word, and she stopped for a moment to steady her breath,  
  


"What was your crime, to warrant such a punishment?" Balgus spoke up, his voice serious and his face like a stone mask,  
  


"I broke the first law of my people. I took a life." Estrela said quietly, her eyes squeezing shut against the painful memories which filled her mind, "It was an ordinary day, I was outside our small cottage, watching my younger brothers and sisters in their play. Then suddenly I heard a loud commotion in the forest across the village. I. . .I told the children to go in the cottage, and I ran to the woods to see what had happened. There. . .I found some of our men in a clearing, dead. . . no, murdered in cold blood. Their skin was so pale as they lay there on the grass. . . I was terrified, but raced back to our cottage to protect the children. When I got close enough, I saw that the door had been broken down, pieces of the splintered wood still clinging to the frame. I was becoming more and more frightened, screams from other areas in the village tore through my mind, flames scorching many of the houses, but I had to get to the children. I dashed into the house, only to find a large man inside, dressed in ragged clothes, a bloody sword in his hand. His back was to me, in fact he took no notice of me at all, which was lucky, because I was completely frozen by fear. Then, I happened to glance to the floor behind him, and I saw. . ." She had been slowly paling as she spoke, and now her face was ghostly white, her hands clutching the arms of the massive chair hard enough to make the wood groan.  
  


"I saw. . ."She continued in little more than a whisper, "My youngest sister, as small as young prince Van, lying naked on the wooden floor, blood pouring from a huge wound in her stomach. . .she looked so still. . ." Estrela choked back a sob threatening to escape her throat, and slightly raised her voice, "I heard crying from the corner the man was approaching, one of my other sisters, Vela, lay curled in a tight ball before him, a cut on her cheek, and another, which looked very deep, running down her leg. I was not thinking, I grabbed my father's large hunting knife from the mantle behind me, and before the man could react, I plunged it into his back, between his ribs. I remember how he turned around to face me, the look in his icy blue eyes, I had never seen eyes like that before, filled with hatred, death. . .he made a grab at me, but collapsed before he could reach. Blood trickled from his mouth, and his eyes glazed over as he lay there. I just fell to my knees beside him, and stared into space. I had never killed before, none in my village had. It seemed like an eternity before someone came, my uncle. He saw the man on the floor, the sticky blood still on my hands, and before I knew what had happened, I was brought before the village council, judged and convicted of the highest crime, and banished soon after." Her voice was cracking with pain, and a single tear rolled down from her tightly closed eye as she finished her story.   
  


No one spoke for a few moments, they all just seemed to soak up her words. Then Folken began, his voice soft but splitting in the silence,  
  


"But you were protecting your family, that monster would have killed them,"  
  


"It makes no difference. I had no right." Estrela said, her voice stiff with anguish,  
  


"You had every right!" The princes voice had raised, and sounded almost angry  
  


"No!" She shouted, startling everyone in the room. Her jet-black eyes snapped open and focused directly on his astonished face, "No, according to the laws and beliefs of my people, what I did was wrong. Taking any life, under _any_ circumstances, is wrong." She sat back in her chair, her eyes leaving Folken's, to stare blindly out of one of the huge windows. _It's so sunny. . . _she thought. Her voice was distant as she continued,  
  


"You asked me, General Balgus, if mine were a peaceful people. I told you that they were, but there is more. My people have shunned violence in every form. Even in there own defense. . . It is taught, among my people, that violence solves nothing, and those who preform violent acts are forever dammed in the eyes of the Gods. The man I killed, I judged him, judged his soul. I had no right, for judgement is a task for the Gods. He would have been punished by them." She abruptly fell silent, eyes still staring into space. Folken couldn't take his eyes off of her face, the pain twisting her features, the tears glistening in her dark eyes. His heart was ripped in his chest as he stared at her still form. Separated from her family, her home. . . shunned by her people, hated by his, it was too much.  
  


Rising from his chair, the prince moved quickly to kneel before her sitting figure. He wrapped his arms around her rigid body, one around her slender waist, the other stoking her soft hair. She collapsed into his warm embrace, weeping unabashedly into his shoulder as she had done earlier that morning. She clung to his chest, long repressed sobs wracking her shoulders as he whispered comforting words into her hair. She felt so safe.  
  


Their moment of peace ended sharply as the King quietly cleared his throat. Folken hastily released her from his grip and moved back to his own chair. They were both blushing furiously, but the prince did reach over towards her and take her slim hand in his own. She dared a glance at him, her eyes still filled with pain, but also showing hints of gratitude, and . . . something else.  
  


The King brought a hand to his temple as he leaned forward in his chair, Estrela's story running again and again through his mind. He looked at her, her snow white hair such a stark contrast to the jet-black orbs of her eyes and her golden skin. She was. . . uniquely lovely, and her kind spirit showed through her veil of sorrow. He could understand why his son looked at her so.  
  


"I am sorry if I have caused you to revisit old grief, my lady," King Goau said solemnly, "I had no idea." She lifted her eyes to meet his, and surprisingly there was a small smile on her lips,  
  


"It is fine your Majesty. I must learn to deal with my memories, if I keep my emotions inside, they will drive me mad. . ." The last part was said quietly, as she squeezed Folken's hand in her own. He smiled softly in return.  
  


"If you don't mind me asking," Queen Varie piped up from her seat beside the prince, "How long has it been since you were with your people?" Despite the compassion in the Queen's voice, the smile quickly faded from Estrela's face.  
  


"Thirty-six years. . ." Estrela said quietly. Folken stared at her dumbfounded, as did everyone else in the room. She looked up, confusion evident on her face,   
  


"What?" She asked Folken, a bit unsettled by the groups silent stares,  
  


"Thirty-six years. . .How. . .how old are you Estrela?" The prince asked hesitantly,  
  


"One hundred and eighteen," She said nervously, still perplexed as to their reactions, "I'll be One hundred and nineteen on the twenty first Moon of Blue."  
  


"One hundred and nineteen. . ." The King said quietly from behind his desk, "How long do your people live?" Estrela looked at the King with puzzlement on her face,  
  


"Most live well into their early thousands. A Cisne is considered an elder if they live to be over two thousand years old, and we are considered adults, and ready to marry, when we reach one hundred and twenty, though many children have their spouses chosen for them before they turn eighty." She stopped and looked at the astonished expressions on the faces of the people around her, and could no longer hold her interest back, "Is it not the same for your peoples?" She asked the group innocently,  
  


"No, it is not the same." King Goau responded, "I am forty-nine years old, the Queen is close to that, General Balgus is sixty. . ." He trailed off as Estrela's eyes widened. She turned to Folken, her expression bewildered,  
  


"And you, my prince, how old are you?" His eyes met her's and he responded in a quiet voice,  
  


"I am fourteen years old, my lady." Folken was still amazed by the woman before him, _One hundred and nineteen. . ._ He thought. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, unsure of how to respond, _Fourteen years old. . . _The number flowed over and over through her mind. They were both saved from the awkward moment by Balgus, who, sensing the growing tension, felt it wise to change the subject,  
  


"Why don't you tell the King the story of your swordsmaster, Lady Estrela" He said suddenly. Estrela broke her gaze with Folken, unbelievably relieved, and very grateful to the old samurai. Folken sat back in his chair, feeling the same way.  
  


"Of course General, if the King would permit?" Goau nodded his head slightly and she continued. "After I left my village, I wandered for, oh, almost thirteen years. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I was sure that there had to be something out there for me. Everywhere I traveled, I was shunned. I could not go into towns or cities because my eyes would expose my race, even the beast people tribes wanted nothing to do with me. I lived mostly off of the land those years, and I was constantly on the move. I learned quickly to journey only at night or through deep forests if I had to move during the day, because it was too much of a risk to travel in the open. After years of the endless trek, I had almost given up. Then my master found me." She paused and let out a small sigh. She then lay her free hand over the grip Folken had on her other and closed her eyes, "It was a cool morning, early spring, and I had just started setting up my camp in a small clearing in a forest somewhere near the Freid/Asturian border. I didn't even hear him come. I was spreading out my bed roll, and when I looked up, there he was, sitting silently on the dew-covered grass only a short distance away. I had never seen a doppleganger before. He stared at me from his seat on the ground, his reptilian-like eyes seemed to bore into my mind, as if searching for something, and his pale hands were clasped under his pointed chin. I was terrified, but I could not make myself move. My mind screamed for me to flee, but my muscles would not respond, even as he stood smoothly and began to walk towards me. His long cloak was strange, its colour seemed to shift with his every movement, greens and browns, dark shadow-like patches, blending his body into the forest behind and making it appear as if his head were almost floating. It was truly eerie. He approached me, stopping only when his face was a mere hand-span from my own. I could feel his breath on my cheek, it was not warm like a Cisne's or a human's, but felt icily cold, sending shivers up my spine. I dropped my eyes from his, only to have strong, cold fingers wrap around my chin, and raise my head. I had no choice but to meet his gaze, as frigid as his breath, and I felt my heart rise to my throat as he began to speak,  
  


'Cisne,' His voice was like a hiss, but it held a certain strength, which I found oddly calming, despite the circumstances, 'What are you doing here, away from your people?' I began telling him everything, tears starting to run down my face as I revisited the pain. I still don't understand what made me tell him, but as I did, his grip loosened on my chin, though his hand did not leave, and his eyes lost a bit of their ice. He was silent throughout my entire tale, and stayed that way for a few moments after I had finished. When he finally spoke again, he sounded distant, like he was recalling something as well, and his large eyes were slightly unfocused 'A very interesting story, Cisne. You have nowhere to go?' I shook my head. He seemed to battle with something inside himself, eyes still far-off, but then he seemed to make a decision as his eyes refocused on mine and he began to speak, very quietly, 'If you wish,' He said, 'You could travel with me for a time, perhaps even become my student. What is you name?'  
  


I told him my name, curiosity slowly replacing the fear in my mind, 'And, if I may ask, were I to come with you and become your pupil, what would you teach me?' I had nothing to lose by traveling with him, I felt worse than dead already, with no home and no people, and, I thought, if he had wanted to harm me, he would have done so already. A small smile flashed over his features as he responded to my question, and his eyes seemed to lighten,  
  


'Everything. . .' I remember he uttered the word as if the answer were so clear, so simple, everything. I was astonished by the sincerity in his tone, and I'm sure that my jaw would have dropped open had his hand not still held my chin. What did he mean, I thought, _everything? _I was still in that state of shock when I felt his fingers leave my face, and I stayed standing there staring as he turned his back and began to walk out of the clearing and deeper into the forest. Before he had completely disappeared into the trees he turned back to face me, the shadows of the wood adding to the queer effect of his cloak. He had an expression on his face, a mix of amusement and annoyance, and I saw his shoulders drop in a small sigh before he shouted at my motionless form,  
  


'At your pleasure my lady,' His voice was practically dripping with sarcasm, though good-natured, and I'm sure I must have blushed seven shades of crimson as hurried after him, grabbing my bag and hastily stuffing my bed roll into it. As I caught up to him I realized that he had not waited for my answer, that he simply assumed that I would go with him. I almost turned back at his audacity, but I stopped myself as the thought of being alone again swam through my mind. At least this man, or whatever he was, did not seem afraid of me, or appear to hate me for being Cisne. _He can't be that bad. . ._ I remember thinking while walking silently behind him through the trees. . ."   
  


Estrela paused her tale as King Goau began to cough loudly, a hacking which shook his entire body. The Queen quickly rose from he chair and rushed to his side, Balgus following close behind with a glass of what appeared to be wine from a small cupboard beside the desk. Then the bout stopped, as abruptly as it had begun, and the King shooed his wife and the samurai away, as he straightened in his chair and took a small sip of the drink. Both Varie and the General shot each other worried glances, but quickly returned to their seats, uttering not a word the entire time. Estrela glanced at Folken, she could see the worry in his face as he stared at his father. She then shifted he glance to the King, who looked a bit red in the cheeks and was breathing heavier than before. She raised a pale eyebrow, but thought better of asking the questions which now spun through her thoughts. Instead, she simply said,  
  


"Your Majesty, I could continue later, if you wish," King Goau's attention focused on her, and for the first time she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the deep worry lines which furrowed across his face. He seemed so fragile, so. . . mortal. _Why didn't I notice before?_ She berated herself internally, _He is sick. . ._ Estrela's thoughts were broken by the King's voice, now considerably more strained than before, _He sounds so weary_,  
  


"Perhaps that would be best for now," He rasped, trying his hardest to steady his tone, "We have kept you long enough. You may finish your tale later this afternoon, perhaps four glass past midday."  
  
  
  


"Of course, Your majesty," Estrela said, glancing out of the large windows, trying to judge the approximate time. _I'd say it's about a glass before midday_, she thought, _so about five glass. . ._ She rose from her seat and bowed before the King. Folken rose as well, and addressed his father,  
  


"If I may father, I would ask permission to escort the Lady Estrela around the palace, perhaps even into the city?" He sounded so eager, that Goau had to smile,  
  


"Of course my boy," He said, "Have fun." Folken grinned at his father, and offered his arm to Estrela. She offered the King a small smile, and bowed her head,  
  


"Thank you, Your Majesty," The pair turned and began to walk towards the large doors, but they halted as Goau began to speak again,  
  


"Oh, and Lady Estrela, make sure my son stays out of trouble, will you?" Folken flushed a deep crimson as he shot a warning glare at his father. The King chuckled under his breath, while Estrela smirked at the prince,  
  


"As you command, my King," She said, trying to hold back the laughter which tickled the back of her throat, "But I'm sure Prince Folken will be nothing less than a gentleman," The prince shifted his scowl to the woman on his arm, but it refused to stay on his face as his eyes met her's, bright with amusement. His features lightened as a grin split his face, and he bowed swiftly to the congregation before ushering Estrela out of the doors.  
  


King Goau chuckled softly once more before taking another sip of his wine. _Was I ever that young?_  
  


AN II/ So, whadda think? This is not my favorite chapter, I think the next one is much better, which I'll try to have out by Monday. Oh, just as a bit of miscellaneous information, I hate when Estrela is talking about her banishment in this chapter. I loathe it. No matter what I did to that part, it just didn't sound right. . . grrr. . . Anyway, enough of my rambling for one chapter, hoped you all enjoyed it. Peace and Love Everybody.

~Gabe~

Oh yeah, dragon, about the knives. . . *blows raspberry* ^_~ Two daggers and somewhere between twelve and twenty throwing knives in total. Somewhere around eight throwing knives left behind, and her sword. Now I don't know about you, but I wouldn't go to the post office with less, *^_^* Thanks bunches for the review, its stuff like that which gets chapters out faster *hint hint*


	6. Titles Are Becoming Difficult To Think O...

AN/ Oh, look at this! A new chapter in Open Road, wow, that has to be a sign for something. *^_^* I know at the end of chapter 5 I said that this would be out by Monday, well, you'll notice that I did not specify which Monday, and thus, this chapter is early! Aha! Truly though, gomen nasai for the delay, reality decided to give me a wake-up call, and it wasn't very pleasant. . .Anyway, I promise there won't be this much of a wait for the next chapter, which is in works in my mind, and soon to meet the keyboard. Oh, and while you wait, why don't you go over and check out my other fic, Dark Paradox? ( a Celena/Dilandau piece) As always, reviews are appreciated, even if it's just to flame me for taking so long with this ^_^;; 

  
  


Thanks Bunches Everybody!

  
  


Enjoy, 

  
  


Chapter Six - Titles Are Becoming Difficult To Think Of

  
  


"Folken, I can't go into the market! People will see what I am!" Estrela and the prince sat in their garden once more, shadowed from the afternoon sun by the great marble fountain. It had been almost two glass since they had left the King's study, Folken had showed her almost all of the castle, and they had just finished eating a small lunch of vegetable stew, hard rolls, and fruit tarts. They had then migrated back to the garden they had occupied earlier that morning, the First Garden, Folken told her it was called. 

  
  


"Second only to my mother's private gardens in beauty," He had said, "Though unrivaled in good company." She had felt her cheeks burning after that, and he had laughed at her reaction. Then he had asked if she would go into the city with him. She didn't know what to say, she was so uncomfortable with the idea, but she didn't want to hurt the prince's feelings. . . She couldn't go, there were too many people, they would see her eyes, but Folken had quickly silenced her,

  
  


"You will be safe," He told her, gripping her finely-boned hands between both of his palms, "You'll be with me. And. . ." He continued as she raised her eyes to meet his, "You'll have fun." He grinned at her and she let out a defeated sigh,

  
  


"Fine," She said quietly, "I'll go. . ." Folken let out a celebratory whoop and holding tightly onto Estrela's hands, he spun her in a wide circle. She let out a laugh of delight as her braid whipped about in the afternoon air and then disengaged herself from his grasp,

  
  


"I'll go and get my things, meet you back here?" 

  
  


"No, the front gates, in, oh let's say a quarter glass." He grinned at her as he continued, "That is, of course, if you don't mind going through the main entrance. You didn't seem to eager to use it the last time. . ." Her eyes narrowed in a deadly glare as he trailed off, a sheepish expression on his face. She keep her eyes locked on his for a moment, grinding him beneath her gaze, before finally turning and striding toward the garden's exit. She paused before the large doors and turned back to face him once more,

  
  


"I'll be there!" She cried, her dark eyes still menacing, "A quarter glass, don't be late!" Then she was gone.

  
  


Folken sat back against the fountain as the doors swung shut, producing a dull thud as they met their frames. The prince did not move, simply sat and stared at the doors, a wolfish grin on his face. He stayed in that position until the heavy door creaked open again a few moments later, and Estrela's pale head thrust inside. Her eyes met his, and then fell to the cloth bundle lying by his feet. Neither spoke a word while she strode quickly towards him, her gaze never leaving the package as she knelt to retrieve it. She then turned her back to him once again and darted back through the doors. 

  
  


Folken fell from his seat into the soft grass, clutching his sides as the uncontrollable laughter shook his entire body. After what seemed like eternity the attack began to ebb, and the prince stood up unsteadily, wiping the tears from his eyes, and wheezing with giggles. That was how he stumbled through the hallways to his room, grabbing his coin purse and his lightest cloak, while passing servants whispered things to one another and glanced in his direction. He was still chortling as he rounded the last corner toward the main entrance, and he nearly fell to the ground again as he saw who was waiting for him.

  
  


Estrela stood by the large gate which would lead out into the city. She glanced around, wondering what could be keeping Folken as she shifted her brown cloak on her shoulders. It was really too hot to be wearing the woolen mantle, but she was so nervous about being recognized that she pushed aside her comfort and began to raise the deep hood. She paused as she saw Folken come around the corner, that accursed grin still plastered on his face. When his eyes met her's, he seemed to stumble, and a gleeful cackle escaped his throat. She glared at him as he came and stood beside her, still laughing softly.

  
  


"It's not funny." She said in a low voice, filled with menace. He looked up at her, his eyes beginning to water again,

  
  


"Nooooo. . ." He managed to choke out between snickers, "Not funny at all. . ." She clouted him on the arm and he yelped in pain. He glared at her as he rubbed his bicep, and she glared back, imitating his grin from earlier.

  
  


"That was funny," She said simply as she turned and began to walk out of the gates. The prince hastily sprinted to catch up to her, hand still massaging his injured arm, as he grumbled under his breath. Estrela sighed and looked up at him, clearly irritated,

  
  


"Oh, come on!" She exclaimed, "I didn't even hit you hard! Be a man!" At that last remark Folken whipped his hand back to his side, and scowled at the woman beside him. She simply smirked. 

  
  


"We're here." He said swiftly, looking up at their surroundings. They had left the palace and walked down a wide cobblestone road flanked on either side by tall plaster-walled buildings, but Estrela had been to preoccupied with Folken to notice. She gasped as she allowed her gaze to wander, over the vendors shouting their wares, the milling crowds of people, so many. . . She hastily raised her hood, obscuring her face before anyone around could have a chance to get a good look, but it was quickly pulled back down again as Folken stared at her startled expression and sighed. He had a firm grip on the back of her cowl, and despite her protests, would not allow her to raise it over her head. Finally she gave up trying to pry his fingers from the material, and instead jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. He let out a quiet Ophf and released his grasp. Estrela pulled away from the prince and raised her hood once more. This time Folken made no move to stop her, he simply huffed in a bothered sort of way and lead her into the bustling populace, oblivious to Estrela's quickened breathing and stiff demeanor as they wove deeper into the throng.

  
  


Estrela had never been good in crowds, even in her own village. They worried her, scared her. Too many people, too close, it made her so uncomfortable, so anxious. Why did Folken want her to come? He knew what she was, and he still didn't understand how difficult this was for her. But he's half draconian, they're considered cursed as well. . . He's a prince, he's been protected, No one could have protected him from the whispers, the taunts behind his back, you remember. . . Oh yes, she remembered, Perhaps he does understand. . . Then why did he ask me to come, if he understands, if he knows how I feel? Maybe he knows something you don't. . . What? 

  
  


Estrela shook her head, she was confusing herself, that nagging voice in the back of her mind talking in riddles. She glanced over at Folken as they continued through the crowd, and caught him looking back at her, an unidentifiable expression on his face. He quickly shifted his gaze to a nearby merchant's stall, pausing to examine the fine jewelry on display. The owner ended a conversation with a birdman at the other end of his table and approached the pair, smiling brightly,

  
  


"How may I help you today, my lord?" The man was young, if he were one of her people, Estrela would say he was no more than one hundred and eighty, with short curly hair of a mahogany brown and sparkling green eyes. His skin was a dark tan, though lighter than his hair, and he was dressed in woolen robes of blue and yellow. The grin he flashed them was unearthly white, a stark contrast to his brown skin, but by far the oddest thing about his appearance was his jewelry, both ears covered in large gold rings, with a thin golden chain running across his left cheek from a hoop in his ear to another ring pierced through the side of his nose. He also had three long golden chains around his neck, each of a different length and each with numerous small golden medallions hanging from them, and his fingers and wrists glittered with his many golden rings and bracelets. It was truly a sight.

  
  


Folken glanced up at the man, a southerner by his dress, possibly from Daedalus or Egzardia, and then gave the table another thoughtful look, 

  
  


"Nothing for me today, my good sir," the prince said lightly, beginning to turn away,

  
  


"Then perhaps something for your lady?" The merchant said hastily, not willing to loose a potential customer without a fight. Folken glanced at his companion, her cloak still concealing her eyes, but exposing enough of her figure and jaw to establish that she was female. 

  
  


"Estrela?" Folken asked her, "Do you see anything you like?" She met his gaze, then scanned the table before her. Necklaces, bracelets, rings, and pendants, in every type of metal imaginable, some set with colourful stones or enamel. She reached down and picked up a thin silver chain with a plain silver medallion hanging from it, similar in design to the merchant's own necklaces, though less flashy. The pendant was about the size of her thumbnail, oval in shape, and was smooth and flat, with no marking or designs. She ran the chain through her long fingers, it flowed like water over her knuckles and formed a shining pool in her palm,

  
  


"That is an exquisite piece, Egzardian design, highest quality silver. Why the Queen of Fanelia herself could own no better!" The merchant declared, "I also have more intricate designs, in other metals, if you wish to see. . ."

  
  


"No, thank you," Estrela said suddenly, dropping the necklace back on the table, "Perhaps another time," The merchant looked a bit defeated, but began to speak again,

  
  


"Are you sure? I will only be in the city for a short time, and you won't find better quality anywhere else for these prices,"

  
  


"No, really. I apologize for wasting your time," Estrela stated, turning away. Folken let his gaze rest on the chain for a moment longer, before turning as well and following the woman back into the street. The merchant sighed dejectedly, but quickly regained his blinding smile as another person approached his stall.

  
  


"Estrela!" Folken called to her retreating back. She stopped and waited for him to catch up, adjusting her cloak so it no longer draped over her shoulders, but hung loosely down her back. It was too damned hot for the woolen garb, but she couldn't risk taking it off. Folken watched her discomfort as they continued their walk, and finally could take no more. He stopped abruptly at a vacant corner and turned to face her,

  
  


"Estrela, if you insist on hiding yourself like this, at least take my cloak," He said, removing the robe from his shoulders, "It is much lighter than that gods-forsaken thing you're wearing now, and I don't really need it anyway." She looked ready to refuse, but he cut her off before she could begin, "Take it, I mean it. Please?" Estrela murmured something under her breath in a language Folken could not understand, but then after glancing around to make sure that no one was watching, removed the heavy mantle from her shoulders and accepted the other cloak from the prince's hand. He was right, it was much lighter. She raised the hood, it was not as deep as she would have liked, but it served. The dark red fabric was soft, and it seemed to breathe in the light breeze, a welcome relief from the choking heat inside her own cloak. She gave Folken a grateful smile, and he grinned back, placing an arm around her shoulders.

  
  


"I told you." He said, "Much better, yes?"

  
  


"Yes, it is, thank you Folken. I didn't realize how warm it actually was with that on," Estrela responded, motioning to the folded cloth now tucked under the prince's free arm. He was holding her very closely to his side, she could feel his breathing, his muscles shifting as he began to move again. It was remarkably comfortable despite the heat, and Estrela felt herself relax into him, resting her head on his broad shoulder. It was ridiculous, she had know him for a night and a day, but she felt more comfortable with him than she had ever felt with anyone, even her master. What was she doing? She felt her arm extend, seemingly of its own free will, and wrap around the prince's waist, holding him even closer to her, if that was possible. Folken glanced down at her, slightly flushed, but did not pull away, or make any move to remove her hand from his hip. 

  
  


They kept walking, passing shops and booths selling everything imaginable, from swords and other weapons, to laces and fabrics, books, foods, and even live animals. Folken halted before a small stall between a meat pie stand and a wrinkled old woman who seemed to be selling charms and potions, and gazed down at the goods on the table before him. Glasses, frames of many shapes and sizes with their thin lenses, different strengths for all types of vision. A small collection lying in one corner of the small booth caught his attention, glass tinted dark for reading in bright sunlight. Releasing Estrela from his grasp, Folken approached the table and inspected a pair of the dark glasses. The merchant addressed the prince in a slightly strained, though cheery voice as she stood from where she had been crouching behind the stall, a large wooden box in her arms,

  
  


"I'll be with ye in a moment, sir" She said, her accent labeling her as from one of the outlying districts of Fanelia, probably Timmins or Unden. She had a good-natured smile on her freckled face, her long red hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and her midnight blue eyes wide. She wore a simple dress in a light blue cloth, with no accessories or jewelry to speak of. She placed the box back on the ground and rose to meet Folken's gaze once again, raising her hands to pat down some stray strands of hair which had sprung loose into her eyes.

  
  


"Now, what can I be helpin' ye with?" She asked the pair. Unlike the jewelry merchant from before, this woman addressed both Folken and Estrela together, as equals. Folken picked up a pair of tinted glasses for her to view,

  
  


"How much?" He asked. She glanced at the frames in his hand and then said,

  
  


"That pair, two silver crowns an' five coppers, but dependin' on the style o' frame ye want, could be more o' less," The merchant said, pointing towards the other darkened glasses. Folken looked at Estrela, a single brow raised,

  
  


"What do you think?" He asked her, "Would you wear a pair?" Estrela eyed the glasses in his hand, and then glanced at his face. It might work, she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before. She nodded her head, and he stepped aside to allow her a better view of the different styles on display. There were thick and thin frames, in many different colours, and the lenses came in many different shapes. Some even had lenses that flipped upwards to reveal normal glass beneath. 

  
  


It was difficult to decide but Estrela finally picked up a pair with large, rectangular lenses with rounded corners. The frames were a thin black wire, and each of the darkened glass lenses flipped outwards to each side as apposed to upwards like some of the other pairs on the table. She showed them to Folken and he nodded his head. Closing her eyes, Estrela lowered the hood of her borrowed cloak and placed the glasses on her face. She opened her eyes and looked at the prince. He smiled at her,

  
  


"Beautiful," He said quietly. The merchant woman held up a small polished mirror for Estrela to see. The lenses completely covered her large eyes, and they were tinted darkly enough that no one could discern her race. Estrela smiled, she looked like a human. Folken let his gaze linger on the woman beside him for a few moments, completely engrossed in her own reflection, before turning back to the merchant, a small smile playing on his features.

  
  


"For this pair?" He asked. The merchant seemed to consider for a moment, raising a hand to tug the lobe of her ear a few times before responding,

  
  


"Normally, I'd be sayin' three silver an' four copper, but for ye, I'll let them go for just the silver." Folken grinned as he dug through his small belt pouch. He removed three large coins, and placed them gingerly in the woman's waiting hand. Her blue eyes widened at the money now in her palm, and her lips parted slightly as she exhaled through her teeth. 

  
  


"Three golden dragons. . ." She whispered, flipping one of the coins over with hesitant fingers. The figure of a land dragon stood out on one side of the medium sized discs, a Fanelian crest on the other. "M'lord, there is no need. . ." Folken gently cut her off before she could finish her protest.

  
  


"You have earned it, my dear lady. You have no idea what these glasses will mean to my companion, and your courteous manners have merited this gift. Please, accept it and my gratitude." He finished with a small bow, which left the merchant woman speechless and blushing. She simply nodded her head, and Folken grinned at her before turning to Estrela. "Come my lady," He said to her, "We are running short on time, and if I do not return with something for my dear brother, he will never forgive me." He offered his arm to her, which she accepted, and then turned back to the merchant, "Thank you again, fair lady, and be blessed." Then they were off, back into the horde of people that still filled the streets.

  
  


"Bless you, m'lord!" Came a cry from behind them, barely audible through the din of the crowd. The merchant had gotten her voice back. Estrela smiled. 

  
  


"That was a very kind thing," she said, shifting her now obscured gaze to the prince. He did not look at her, simply shrugging as he scanned the shops lining the opposite side of the street,

  
  


Estrela glanced up at the sky; it looked to be about two, perhaps two and a half glass past midday. That meant that they had only been in the market for about one glass. . . it felt like so much longer. 

  
  


"Come on," Folken said suddenly, "I was serious about picking something up for Van. He'll pout for a week if we come back empty-handed," The prince was pulling Estrela towards the booths before he had even finished, weaving between the bustling people, drawing a few curses and shouts as they jostled their way through. Finally on the other side of the street, Estrela allowed her gaze to wander down the rows of shops and stalls, it looked the same as the other streets. She was about to ask Folken what they were looking for when he began moving again, dragging her along behind him toward their mystery destination.

  
  


A little over a half glass later found the pair in one of the city's many small parks, this one more out of the way than most, and completely deserted besides the couple resting beneath a large tree. They were sitting in the shade of the ancient bows, back to back beside the rough trunk, necks craned backwards so that the back of each one's head rested on the other's right shoulder. Both had their knees drawn up to their chests, Estrela's arms wrapped around her legs, while Folken's were locked straight behind him, palms digging into the soft soil on either side of her hips. Beside them lay the two folded cloaks, two small paper wrapped packages, Estrela's glasses, and a few daggers she had removed from her person for reasons of comfort. One of the packages was filled with sweets of every sort, the other, slightly larger, held a leather bound book, a story of a cursed princess and a handsome knight. Folken had told Estrela that Van was learning to read, and this book might keep his interest more so than those his tutors used, at least this one had pictures. The candy was a backup in case the book failed.

  
  


"Folken," Estrela said gently as the leaves above them rustled in the dying breeze,

  
  


"Hmmm?" 

  
  


"We really should be getting back, the King is expecting us soon,"

  
  


"Of course. . ." Neither one stirred,

  
  


"Folken," Estrela began again, her voice becoming muted and drowsy,

  
  


"Yes?"

  
  


"We don't seem to be moving,"

  
  


"No, I suppose we don't," A pause,

  
  


"Alright then. . ."

  
  


AN/ I know, nothing is happening, no action. . .Is it boring? I hope not, but this story is really quite long in my head, and there is not going to be a great deal of action for a while. This first bit is just learning about Estrela and the relationship between her and Folken growing. . . So, is it boring? Really, please tell me. Next chapter out soon, promise *^_^*

  
  


Peace and Love 


	7. Nap

AN/ Heh, nothing much to say here. This is the next chapter promised at the end of the latest update of Dark Paradox *Another Shameless Plug* Come on guys, you know you're interested at what crazy drivel Gabe can spew out when she gets her hands on Dilandau, right? *^_^* Talk to ya later. Peace.  
  
Chapter Seven - Nap  
  
The light was hurting his eyes. It was orange, too bright, and burned in his vision no matter how tightly he squeezed his lids closed. Folken tried to turn his body to escape the blazing glow, but something held him in place, a weight, on his chest. Without moving his head, Folken slitted his eyes open and glanced down. The top of a head, pale hair, soft line of a tan cheek. . . Then everything came flooding back. They must have fallen asleep beneath the tree, and somehow shifted positions, until they ended up like this.  
  
Folken lay on his back on the cool grass, with Estrela atop his chest, her head nestled into the hollow of his neck. One of her hands was splayed across his collarbone, the other twisted through the mop of his thick, teal hair. His arms encircled her back and waist tightly, as if even in sleep he had worried about her falling, and their legs were in a hopeless tangle, which Folken could not even attempt to undo without waking his companion.  
  
Well, I have to wake her eventually, don't I? Folken thought. Why? Came a tempting voice from the back of his mind, Aren't you comfortable? That was the problem, he was too comfortable. Estrela's soft warmth and gentle breathing. . . I have to wake her, the sooner the better. . .  
  
It was at this moment that Estrela shifted in her sleep, her hand on the prince's collar sliding up his neck, her lips brushing against his Adam's apple. He froze. Gods have mercy. . .  
  
Folken couldn't move. All thoughts of waking her flew out of his mind, and it was all the boy could do to stop from trembling. Squeezing watering eyes tightly shut, a low groan escaped the prince's throat, further disturbing his occupant, causing her hand to travel farther up his neck, and her hip to brush against his. . . Oh Gods. . .  
  
"Estrela. . ." He managed to croak out, "Estrela wake up. . ." The woman muttered something in the same language he had heard her use in the market, and moved to shift again, but Folken felt her body go rigid before she began. A pale head rose slowly, and polished ebony met garnet as she gaped at the prince. Then, realization seemed to dawn, and Estrela scrambled backwards, off Folken's chest, landing hard on her backside in the process.  
  
Both young people sat and stared at one another for a few tense moments, neither moving or meeting the other's gaze, but both breathing rather unsteadily. Finally, the near choking silence was broken,  
  
"Estrela, I. . ." And at the same moment,  
  
"Folken, please. . ." Both people stopped abruptly, eyes dropping once more, and the stillness returned. A few more uneasy minutes, then,  
  
"My father is gonna skin me alive," A wave of confusion coursed through Estrela's mind and she raised her eyes to the prince, snow white brows furrowed.  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"We were s'posed to be back at the palace at four glass pas' midday, it must be at least three glass pas' that already," Folken seemed very flustered, this was the first time his well-bred, princely pronunciations had slipped, the slight slur of native Fanelian speech entering his tone. He quickly scrambled to his feet, gathering their cloaks and packages from where they lay beside the large tree. Then he looked down at Estrela, who had not moved from her seat on the grass, and, after a slight hesitation, offered her his hand.  
  
Estrela raised her eyes to meet the prince's. Is he blushing? No, it must be the light. She clasped her hand with his. A swift pull and she was on her feet, however, Folken had misjudged her weight, drawing her up with slightly more force than necessary, and causing her to stumble, her face stopping less than a feather's breath from his.  
  
He is blushing, What a ridiculous thought to enter her mind at this moment, with Folken's warm breath washing across her cheek, the tips of their noses almost touching, but it was all Estrela's mind could focus on, the rest of her conception was completely muddled. Her mind, her body, neither operating. . . Why wasn't she moving? Folken seemed in the same state, staring bewilderedly into her dark eyes. Then, moments, moons, even colours later, neither one could tell, Estrela blinked, dropping her eyes and taking the obligatory step backwards to retrieve the items Folken had left on the ground.  
  
The prince himself tried his best to avoid looking at his companion as she knelt to recover her daggers, glasses, and the smaller, candy filled package. Every time he would glance at her he felt her warmth again, her soft weight on his body. . . Gods, he felt the heat rise in his cheeks once again as it grew in the pit of his stomach. What was happening to him?  
  
Estrela stood, replacing the blades behind her back and up her sleeves and her glasses on her face. She tried not to look at the prince, seeing his dark wine eyes and silky teal hair caused a fluttering in her chest and a twisting warmth in her abdomen. There was something definitely strange about this feeling. What was happening to her?  
  
Estrela shook her head slightly, this was confusing.  
  
Turning to the prince, Estrela extended a hand to take some of his burden. She dropped it swiftly as he visibly flinched, and looked away from him, adjusting her glasses to cover her anguish.  
  
Wonderful, a voice in Folken's head began, You've hurt her feelings you big oaf. . . Folken took a step forward, Might as well chance it, you can't make this any worse. . .dolt. . .  
  
Estrela froze as she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. She looked up to see Folken, an apologetic smile on his face, and a hopeful glint in his eyes. It took her a moment, but Estrela managed to give a soft smile of her own in return, and a small squeeze of his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Come on," She said suddenly, feeling the ache in her chest begin to heal "We have to get back," Then, a smirk. Estrela pulled away from the prince's grasp, snatching her cloak as well. The devilish grin still playing on her features, "Come on," She said again, "I'll race you," and she was gone.  
  
Folken stood for a spilt second more, watching a snow white braid disappear around the gate of the park before he was off, out of the park, through the streets, just following the rope of glistening alabaster as it whipped through crowds and around buildings.  
  
The gate guard froze in the middle of a good scratch, squinting to see the figures approaching at top speed. The first, looked like a woman, but wearing breeches, was dashing towards the gates, stealing glances over her shoulder at her pursuer. The white braid whipping behind her identified her as the mysterious guest supposedly staying at the palace, if rumors were true. Her pursuer, noticeably slower than his prey, looked to be none other than crown prince Folken. Well, wasn't this interesting. The guard didn't know what to do, whether to detain the woman when she came close enough, or to open the gate for a royal guest. In the end, he had no choice in the matter.  
  
Estrela, seeing the gates closed before her, made a decision. Up and over. Slowing ever so slightly, and grasping her cloak and package in her teeth, Estrela ignored the cry of the guard as she jumped forward, grasping the thick iron bars and pulling herself upwards. Up and over, up and over, The top of the gate, studded with long iron spikes. Estrela let go with one hand and vaulted herself over the menacing obstacle, catching the gate again on the other side. She took a moment to hang there, taking her burden from her mouth into her free hand and gazing back the way she'd come at the still figure of Folken, who must have stopped to watch as she'd climbed the gate.  
  
"Come on slowpoke!" She cried, still hanging from the iron bars, "I've seen crippled land dragons move faster than you!" Her taunts seemed to work, Folken began running again, faster than before. The guard rushed forward to open the gates for the prince, but Folken shouted at him to halt. The prince hit the bars with more force than Estrela had, knocking the wind out of himself momentarily, but began to climb immediately, making the top almost as fast as she had. The spikes proved slightly more difficult, as the vault over almost caused him to fall, but he made it, hanging beside Estrela on the other side. She turned to congratulate him, but Folken had already dropped to the ground below and took off toward the inner doors.  
  
"We're not done yet!" He cried over his shoulder, "To my Father's study!" Estrela dropped, racing after the prince as he made the huge doors, lurching them open with one mighty tug an disappearing inside. She crossed the threshold less than half a moment after Folken, briefly blinded by the transition of sunlight to dim hall. Then she saw him, almost knocking over a servant carrying bedding and towels as he raced down the corridor, and followed in suite. They managed to avoid hitting any of the castle staff as they ran, though just barely in some cases, and finally made it to the great door just as Estrela had caught up to the prince. Folken bent over, hands on his knees, breathing coming in short huffs. Estrela leaned on the wall beside him, running a hand through her bangs and removing her glasses from her face with one motion.  
  
"Gods girl," Folken panted as he finally straightened, "You're fast," Estrela smiled over at the prince, her breath only coming slightly faster than usual,  
  
"You're out of shape," She said simply, her grin growing as he glared over at her, his face still red and flushed. "Alright," She continued before he had the chance to say anything, "You're Father's waiting," At this the prince visibly blanched and shifted his gaze to the large door.  
  
Standing up straighter, Folken took a step toward the door, first reaching toward the latch, then stopping midway to raise his fist slightly and knock. After a tense moment, the knob slowly began to turn and the portal creaked open to reveal. . . a servant?  
  
"Ah, my prince," The old man said in a kindly voice. He was genuinely tiny, his balding, spotted head only coming to the middle of Estrela's chest. Despite is apparent age, which Estrela could not even begin to guess, the most ancient Elder in her village wasn't this wrinkled, the man was not stooped or frail, and his light grey eyes were filled with unexpected vigor. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return." Folken began to speak, but the man continued as if the prince had never interrupted, "You're father asked me to wait here until you came, he was not feeling his best this evening, and has retired early. However, you mother wished for me to send you to her when you arrived. She said she would wait in her gardens. It sounded quite important." Folken kept his gaze on the small man for a moment longer, as if expecting more, then turned to Estrela, who had stood from her slump and seemed to be very intent on the servant, keeping her onyx eyes locked on his narrow frame. The prince cleared his throat, and Estrela blinked suddenly and looked up at him.  
  
"I have to go, do you want to-"  
  
"The queen was very specific that only you come, my prince," The old servant broke in, drawing a quick glance from Folken as the prince's brows knitted together in a look of concern. Turning back to Estrela, the distress and confusion was clear in Folken's face.  
  
"I have to go, I'll be back as soon as I can," He leant forward, placing the other packages into her arms, and then, seemingly without thinking, brushed his lips across her cheek in the slightest breath of a kiss. When he pulled away, the blush was evident on his features as he realized what he had done, but the concern quickly returned, and Folken disappeared down the hallway without another word.  
  
Estrela stared after him, a hand raised to her cheek, a look of pure astonishment on her face. Brought out of the trance like state by a subtle cough, Estrela transferred her gaze from the shadowed hall before her to the small man now standing to her right. He gave her a warm smile, kindly, much like her own grandfather when he had been alive,  
  
"And how may I help you my lady?" Esterla thought for a moment, that run had wound her up, and she hadn't had any proper exercise in three days. She needed to let off some steam.  
  
"Can you wait here for one moment?" She asked,  
  
"Of course, my lady, I am at you're disposal," With that, Estrela started off toward her rooms. She needed to drop off these packages, and change if she was going to train. She only had one good shirt and she'd be damned if she'd ruin it to save time. Finally to her quarters, Estrela slipped inside, dropping the parcels onto the freshly made bed, retrieving her sword and pack from the armoire. Setting the blade and the bag on the bed as well, Estrela began to rummage through the sack, reaching deep inside until she felt what she was looking for. Two neatly folded pieces of clothing, both once white as virgin snow, now slightly faded to the colour of old eggshells.  
  
Moving her bag out of the way, Esterla laid the clothes on the dark quilts, and than proceeded to pull her own deep violet shirt over her head, tucking it gently back into her pack before unfolding one of the dull white items. A thin cotton shirt, sleeveless, and slightly loose as she pulled it on. The neckline was perfect, not high enough to impair her movements, but not low enough to be uncomfortable. The other article, loosely fitted cotton pants, she left on the bed. There was no need to change the black breeches she was wearing now, and she was getting quite restless. She stole a glace at herself in the vanity mirror, the training outfit had been a gift from her master after a year of his instruction, and she loved how it looked, with it's simple lines and razor straight seams. She needed to re-braid her hair, which she did as quickly as possible, tying the end with a leather thong instead of her usual ribbon, and pushed her bangs away from her face. Attaching her sword back at her hip, Estrela reveled in the familiar weight, checking that it sat securely, but moved freely in its scabbard. Before leaving, Estrela looked into the mirror again, crossing her arms and feeling her back lightly with the tips of her fingers. She traced the ridges and deep valleys of scar tissue as she always felt the need to do while wearing this shirt, and was once again relieved to find that it properly covered the marks.  
  
There were certain memories that were better left buried.  
  
Estrela repressed a shudder and dropped her arms, moving swiftly into the hallway and back to where the old servant waited. He had stayed standing in the corridor, despite his age and the room full of comfortable chairs behind him. He looked up as she approached, and did not flinch away from her bizarre eyes. It was. . .comforting.  
  
"Can you show me where I could train with this?" She asked him, motioning to the sword at her hip. The man did not seemed startled at the thought of a woman in sword combat, which Estrela added to her list of reasons she liked this man. He simply turned down the hallway, moving with far more speed than she would have given him credit for and said over his shoulder,  
  
"Follow me please, my lady"  
  
Before Estrela knew it she was before a large, half open screen, the dimly lit room within seemingly empty. The old man did not enter, but shuffled to the side to allow Estrela to look inside. Closer inspection proved that it was, in fact, hardly empty at all, with every wall of the large room coved with weapons of various sorts, ranging from wooden practice swords, to wickedly sharp blades of every type. Estrela had never seen this may weapons in one place before. Another small cough brought her attention back to the old man, who was still standing unmoving beside her.  
  
"Is this satisfactory my lady?" He asked  
  
"Yes, thank you very much,"  
  
"Then if there is nothing else, I will leave you. I have much to do and waiting for the prince has put me behind in my schedule," He finished with a small bow and at her nod, turned to leave. Then a thought hit Estrela,  
  
"Wait," She cried suddenly. The old man turned and regarded her dutifully, "What is you're name?" It was the first time Estrela had seen the man startled, but he recovered quickly and responded,  
  
"Fogo, my lady," That just cinched it. Estrela fixed the man with an odd stare, then said  
  
"Bem, eu agradeço_o, Senhor Fogo" Well, I thank you, Mister Fogo  
  
Now he looked truly astounded, but managed a reply,  
  
"Você é bem_vindo, senhora" You are welcome, lady Then he blinked, bowed again, and scurried off down the hallway. Estrela knew that the old language, her language, was not spoken many places anymore, and she wondered where this Fogo could be from. Apparently, it was his native tongue as well, as his accent, though more subtle than her own, and name suggested. She would have to speak with Senhor Fogo again.  
  
However, now it was time to train.  
  
Removing her boots and striding inside the room, Estrela drew her sword and scabbard both from her belt, then slid the blade free of its sheath. The scabbard was placed on a low bench, and Estrela moved to the center of the great room. After a few basic stretches, she began slowly moving her blade though the air, gaining speed as she continued, until finally it became a beautiful, deadly dance.  
  
Completely lost in the feel of the blade, the sound of her own heartbeat and her master's voice in her ears, Estrela did not sense the new presence entering the room. Spinning on the ball of her foot, Estrela brought her sword in a upward arch, a whistling blur of razor-sharp steel. Then, time froze, the lethal point just touching flesh.  
  
AN/ So? What do you think? Come on guys, I need a bit of encouragement. Please? Hmmm. . . I won't give you a date for next chapter update, but I do have a huge English project due very soon, so it might be a while. . . I'll try though *^_^* Ta 


	8. Tears and Laughter

AN/ Okay, I think I've left you guys long enough with that cliffhanger, *^_^* I can't believe it, I'm in double digits for my reviews! WAHOO! I'm quite happy, can you tell? *^_~* Seriously though, thanks guys, your input means a lot to me. *chokes on the sentimentality of it all* Anyway, on with the story! Death to my rambling! Huzzah! Enjoy, R&R please, thanks bunches.  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight - Tears and Laugher  
  
If he had swallowed he would have slit his throat.  
  
Good Gods. . . She had stopped it, thank every good spirit above, she had stopped it. Estrela stood, frozen in shock, razor edge and tip of her deadly blade pressed very tightly across the neck of General Balgus Ganesha, one of the three swordsmen of Gaea. She couldn't believe it.  
  
"Are you just going to stand there?" The towering general inquired suddenly, leaning backwards slightly to relieve the pressure of the blade on his throat just enough to allow speech, but making no more to step back. "If you plan on using that, do it. If not, stand down." Estrela was still dumbfounded, but had the sense to drop her blade to her side and step back, away from the general, bowing deeply.  
  
"General Balgus, I'm so- "  
  
"Your speed is excellent." Balgus interrupted before she could begin her apology, his voice a deep rumble through the otherwise silent room, "Your form's not bad, but you seem too stiff, like you are injured." Estrela looked up, meeting the general's steady, powerful gaze. She wondered how he had lost his eye, the scar looked fierce, not a clean cut. He seemed to be waiting for her to respond, but her wounds were the last thing she wanted to speak about. Nevertheless, Balgus's stare was forceful, and his firm demeanor assured her that he was expecting an answer.  
  
"I was injured a few years ago, there were many bones broken and much damage done. Some of it has never truly healed, and I become stiff at times. It is nothing to trouble yourself with, General." She would not tell him of the incessant, numbing pain, or the sharp pangs that hit her at random, stealing her breath and making her eyes water, those were hers to deal with. She had learned to live with the ache, it hardly bothered her anymore. She would survive, she always had.  
  
The general regarded her dubiously, as if he knew she was keeping something, but let the matter drop.  
  
"I will spar with you," He said, still unmoving  
  
"You honor me general," His face transformed with the hint of a grin at her comment,  
  
"We shall see."  
  
A long while later, Estrela did not know how much time exactly, found them circling one another slowly, swords poised ready, and attention completely locked on their opponent. Estrela was dripping with sweat, her shirt plastered to her back and hair almost out of its braid. Her chest was heaving with exertion, but her grip on her blade remained unwavering. Balgus seemed in the same shape, though he appeared surprisingly less weary. They continued to circle, until, finally, Estrela charged, blade moving quicker than the eye could follow, slicing toward the general's chest, then faking rapidly to angle toward his neck. Balgus's sword raised in a blink, meeting Estrela's with such force as to cause a shower of sparks. They were both completely consumed by the fight, blades moving faster and with more power than should have been possible when training. Using her own momentum against her, Balgus shoved Estrela back, setting her off balance and causing a stumble, enough of an opportunity to get his blade through her defenses, to stop, resting against her slender neck. Both were unmoving now, gazes locked and expressions feral. Then the general chuckled softly in his throat and lowered his sword, allowing Estrela to straighten completely. Sheathing his blade, Balgus regarded her with a new air of admiration, still laughing softly.  
  
"Very nicely done, lady," He said finally  
  
"Please general," Estrela managed to croak between gulps of breath, "Estrela, or Cisne. I am no lady" A large grin now grew on Balgus's rough features,  
  
"As you wish, Cisne. But you must call me Balgus." Estrela pushed her bangs away from her face, meeting Balgus's grin with her own.  
  
"Alright, Balgus." Both fighters moved to the side of the large room, where fresh towels lay folded on a low bench. A small rack with several whetstones also waited, and after mopping her brow, Estrela sat and began to hone her blade. Balgus removed his perspire soaked shirt, wiping his shoulders and neck silently before taking a seat beside the pale haired woman and beginning to work on his own edge. After a few moments of quiet, with the soft scratch of stone on steel the only break from complete still, Estrela could no longer stand it. Questions had been burning through her mind since her meeting with the King that morning. It was too much.  
  
"How long have you known," She blurted suddenly, wishing she could vanish as Balgus stopped his work and turned his single eye to her, "About King Goau?" He seemed slightly surprised, but still composed, and not angry. Estrela took this as a good sign.  
  
"What do you mean?" He asked, raising one thick, dark brow.  
  
"He's dying, isn't he?" Estrela was almost afraid to hear the answer. She knew it was true, she felt it, but to hear someone confirm it. . . Please, don't let it be true. . .  
  
Balgus did not look away in discomfort, as many people would have done, but kept his gaze even and his voice flat as he answered,  
  
"Yes, he is." Estrela felt the bile rise in her throat, her heart wrenching in her chest, "King Goau has been ill for almost a year now. At least, I've known for about that long, it could have been much more." Gods, she had to ask,  
  
"How long does he have. . ." Her voice was near a whisper  
  
"The healers have given him about eight colours, a year at most." She was terrified to continue, but she needed to know,  
  
"Does. . . Does Folken know?" Balgus finally broke eye contact with her, turning back to his blade and letting out a deep breath.  
  
"No one has told him, but I think he suspects. However, the Queen said that she was going to reveal it to him very soon. She feels he has the right to know, and I quite agree. We've kept it from him too long anyway." Overwhelming waves of sympathy and sadness coursed through Estrela's mind as she realized why the Queen had wanted to see Folken. Then guilt began to filter in. Folken had comforted her when she was paining, now when he needed her she wasn't there. His father was dying, and she had left to train. But I didn't know. . . It made no difference, the guilt was still eating at her, tearing her insides. She had to find him.  
  
Estrela stood suddenly, dropping the whetstone back in its rack and sheathing her blade.  
  
"Excuse me, Balgus," And before he could reply, she was gone.  
  
Estrela saw nothing as she sprinted through the halls and corridors of the palace. Everything around her, servants, rooms, ornaments, all turned into a blur as she rushed past, determined to find the prince. She could almost feel him, sense his presence, his pain, but she could not find him. Several of the castle staff attempted to stop her, to inquire where she was going or why, but Estrela dashed past them all without a word.  
  
Finally, after a fruitless search inside, Estrela found herself standing before the two huge doors leading to the First Garden, their garden. She pushed one of the portals open, just enough to slip inside, and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Well, it couldn't quite be called darkness, with the twin moons so close, bathing everything in a soft blue glow, but it was a different sort of light than the warm radiance of the torches inside. The door made a slight click as she closed it behind her, but even that seemed a shocking disruption to the absolute stillness of the place. Estrela slowly made her way toward the dragon fountain, walking on the cool grass rather than the pebbled path because of her bare feet. She had left her boots lying in the training room, and the small round stones bothered the scar tissue on her exposed soles. Moving through shadow, Estrela saw no one else, and was about to turn back and check the other gardens when she heard it. Ragged breathing, and a slight shuffling noise. Estrela froze mid-stride, cocking her head toward the sound. She followed it, deeper into shadow, behind the large tree she had fallen asleep under earlier that morning. And there he was.  
  
Folken sat between two huge roots, his back against the thick trunk. His long legs were pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and his face was hidden in his knees. Despite the darkness, Estrela could clearly see his shoulders shake and shudder with each breath he took. She said nothing, but moved to kneel beside him. The prince did not respond, he may not have noticed her, until she lifted a hand to run it though his ruffled hair. A small gasp, and Folken lifted his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were sunken, his skin pallid in the dim light. Estrela could see the pain, the absolute agony in his features, though no tears stained his cheeks. Before he could say anything, Estrela pushed herself toward him, enveloping him in her bare arms and holding his face to her shoulder. Both kept silent, but Folken's shaking seemed to fade. Then Estrela felt it, the warm wetness soaking into the cloth of her shirt. She began to rock back and forth, cooing soothingly in the back of her throat. The drenching of her shoulder and chest intensified. Stopping her rocking, Estrela raised the prince's head with her hand, and held his chin. Tears streamed down his face, but he was not blubbering or bawling. It seemed as if his eyes were simply trickling, and his face remained the mask of anguish. Estrela leaned forward, brushing tears away with her soft lips. Folken's eyes widened, but he did not protest, and the flow of weeping seemed to ebb. The prince kept Estrela's gaze for a moment more, before removing his arms from around his knees and wrapping them around her slender form. He dropped his face to the nape of her neck, resting the side of his head on her dry shoulder. His crying had all but ceased, and Estrela shifted positions slightly so that her back rested against the wide trunk of the tree behind them and Folken lay against her. They lay there for a long time, neither speaking, until Folken sat up slightly, taking one of Estrela's hands in his own. He would not meet her gaze, but stared at their clasped fingers while whispering,  
  
"Thank you," He began, almost too softly to be heard. Then his mouth opened again, as if to say more, then closed. He raised his eyes slightly and looked into hers, seeming like two black voids through her face in the dark. "Thank you. . ." He said again, and broke away from her embrace.  
  
The prince stood, bringing Estrela up after him by their still enfolded hands, and rested his forehead against hers for a brief moment before taking a tentative step out of the shadows. He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself before they began their walk back into the castle. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to Estrela beside him,  
  
"You don't need to be strong, not with me." She said quietly. Folken felt a lump rise in his throat, and the burning in his eyes of more tears, but he blinked them back and swallowed roughly. They were before the doors now.  
  
"In there I do," He said in a strained voice, motioning to the castle before them. Estrela gave him a small smile.  
  
"I'll help then." She said. Folken couldn't stop himself now, a single tear escaped his efforts, rolling down his right cheek. Estrela titled her head forward, stopping the liquid's journey with her lips once again, then moving to the outer corner of each of his eyes.  
  
"A blessing, for happiness." She whispered as she pulled away, pale hair shining in the soft moonlight, "Only given to those very close, or very special to one of my people." Folken was speechless, faced with Estrela's ebony gaze and small, glorious smile. She turned away suddenly, reaching out to grasp the door handle and pull the portal open. They were both briefly blinded by the torchlight of the hallway, harsh compared to the gentle glow outside. Folken kept hold of Estrela's hand as they walked down the corridor, his grip bordering on tight, as if he was afraid she would disappear if he let her go. If she minded the squeeze, she said nothing, but instead moved to lean against him as they strode through the halls.  
  
Time passed, as it always does, and summer moved through and out of Fanelia, bringing the crisp breath of autumn behind it. The King's health had, surprisingly, improved greatly, so much so that the healers had given him a longer estimation, perhaps over two years. This news had bettered Folken's mood greatly, and the mood of the entire palace. The prince seemed almost back to his old self. Balgus had been loath to leave his King, his friend, regardless of his good progress, but the general had a student in Asturia, and felt responsible to return and finish the boy's training.  
  
It was the middle of Grey** when King Goau announced that preparations for the Harvest Festival would begin. Fanelia sprung to life, with parties and feasts being planned, and the entire city being decorated with streamers and ornaments of every colour imaginable. When she asked, Folken explained to Estrela about the celebration,  
  
"After the gathering of the majority of our crops," He had told to her one night over a game of stones and dragons, "The entire country prepares. The festivities differ depending on how far out of the city you go. Here, celebrations start on the twentieth moon of Grey, and continue until the twenty-sixth. There are feasts and parties every one of those nights in the city, and a huge ball in the castle the evening of the twenty-sixth. The public does not attend the ball, but the five nights until then everyone may celebrate in the city, nobility and common alike. Though I have never seen it celebrated in the outlying villages, I've heard that they have a feast and a dance one of the nights between the twentieth and twenty-sixth." He paused, raising his eyes from the game board, "I hope you will be attending the ball, as a royal guest you have that privilege, or rather, I do. . ." He trailed off when he noticed the glare he was receiving. There was silence in the room other than the crackling of the fire. Estrela and Folken sat in one of the rooms of Folken's chambers, a sitting area with several plush chairs, a small, overstuffed chesterfield, the game board, a medium sized hearth, and row upon row of bookcases, each overflowing with a hugely diverse selection of volumes, some older than the prince himself. Folken had been flabbergasted when he learned that Estrela couldn't read common, and had set about trying to teach her. In return, Estrela had agreed to help him translate some of the ancient tomes in the castle's main library from the Old Tongue, and perhaps even teach the prince a bit of the near dead language. She soon learned to watch her random mutters, as Folken would quickly want to know their meanings, many of which Estrela would have rather not repeated. He learned exceptionally fast, and they could now carry on simple conversations in Estrela's native tongue. However, at this particular moment, Estrela felt quite speechless in both dialects.  
  
"Folken, I - "  
  
"Wait," The prince interrupted, "Before you say no. Before you make all the excuses you always make, like about why you can't go to the market or meet visiting nobles or anything like that, just remember how all those arguments ended. You went anyway. Please, save us some trouble this time, just say yes. Come on," and then the dreaded words that always followed, "You'll have fun,"  
  
Estrela felt like banging her head against the board in front of her. Every time it was the same. He would find something, something he knew would make her uncomfortable beyond words, and then try to talk her into going. She would refuse, he would insist. She would decline again, and he would beg. If that didn't break her, he would pretend to be hurt, like she had personally insulted him by saying no, and then she would finally concede. It was torture, being dragged before all those people, their eyes on her, it all made her so uneasy. Folken said it was good for her, that she was too antisocial, and should learn to deal with people. She thought that she could deal with people wonderfully, if only they wouldn't try to kill her or run screaming into the distance when they found out what she was. It took all her skills to convince Folken not to introduce her to people, especially nobles, as 'Estrela das Sombra, the Cisne representative to Fanelia'. He was trying to drive her crazy, Estrela just knew it.  
  
Damn, he had her this time. She didn't want to go, really didn't, but she couldn't prove him right, she couldn't let him think that she was predictable,  
  
"How do you know I was going to say no?" Here goes nothing, "For your information, I would be happy to go. I've never had the chance to dress up before, other than clean breeches and my good shirt. I want to wear a dress, and put my hair up, and have my face painted like a doll," Good Gods above, what had she done? The look on Folken's face was priceless, a mix of surprise, confusion, happiness, and suspicion. When he spoke, his voice reflected all these emotions as well, adding an odd tone to his speech. All in all, it was quite funny,  
  
"You'll come?" Estrela nodded. This seemed to baffle the prince even more,  
  
"Without a fight?" Another nod, "Really?" She would not dignify that with a response. A smile slowly spread over Folken's face, and he pushed away from the game board. "I'll be back, stay here." It was Estrela's turn to look surprised, as the prince stood from his chair and headed toward the chamber doors,  
  
"Where are you going?" She cried after him just as he disappeared out of the threshold. A mop teal hair popped back into the room, revealing Folken's still grinning face,  
  
"To schedule a fitting for your new dress," And the head was gone again. Estrela sprung out of her chair, pulling the door open once again and following the prince into the hall,  
  
"But it's the middle of the night Folken!" She called after his retreating form.  
  
"I'm the crown prince," He threw back over his shoulder as he turned a corner, "It's never too late. Now go back to my room and wait for me, please." Estrela halted as she lost sight of the prince, she couldn't stop him now, she had agreed. Reversing her course to head back to the sitting room, the enormity of what had just happened hit her like a club to the jaw. She had agreed to go to a ball. A public ball. Without a fight. And wear a dress. Good Gods.  
  
  
  
AN/ Heh, I like this chapter. Next up, the festival! Yay! Oh, and for those of you who want more Folken/Estrela cutey-fluffy stuff, just wait. As you all know, Folken's life is not want for pain, and I'll tell you now, neither is Estrela's. *cute comforty stuff* Also, next chapter we might find out the origin of all those scars of hers, icky. Oh, I forgot to put this last time, but I apologize for my butchery of the Portuguese language, I blame the little fish. Seriously though, I don't speak Portuguese, I don't know anyone who does, so I have to rely on our dear friends at AltaVista, whom, as most of you must know, are not always accurate. Thanks for your understanding, and pity, and money if you so choose, *^_~* Why then, you may be asking yourself, if she doesn't speak Portuguese, did she choose it, instead of French, or some other language she might know a little bit about? Well, I'm crazy, so there. Later everybody. Peace.  
  
**Grey - September (I would also like to thank Sarah-neko from saving me from being my normally anal-retentive self, and making up a complete Gaean Calendar. Somebody had to do it, and I'm glad it was her *^_^*) 


	9. Scars

AN/ Okay, classes were cancelled today because of snow, so you get another chapter, Yay! This gets kind of disturbing at the end, and uses one of the b-words, so you have been warned. Also, I'm having trouble with italics showing up, they won't, so now everything, like expressive speech and thoughts that were supposed to be in italics will be bold. *grumble, grumble, I hate bold* Lets see if it works. Enjoy everybody.  
  
Chapter Nine - Scars  
  
"It's pink." Estrela stood on the dressmaker's small platform, regarding the fabric in question with a scowl. Folken was loafing in a nearby chair, laughing himself sick over Estrela's expression.  
  
"No, lady," The dressmaker said in an exasperated voice, "It is dusty rose. And it's just about all I have left considering you didn't like the lavender, the mint, the peach, the sky blue, or anything else I've shown you in the last three glass." Estrela's face turned bright red and Folken began to cackle even louder.  
  
"Do you want to leave?" She roared at him. The prince quieted down slightly, but still wore that nauseating grin.  
  
"It's your fault," He replied, "I wouldn't be here if you would cooperate with Mrs.Greain." Estrela shot him a look that would have made a dragon flinch, but he simply smiled.  
  
It was not her fault, and she was cooperating. She had her reasons why she would not remove more than her jerkin for this woman, and these pastel monstrosities that were being pushed at her made her stomach churn. So there Estrela stood, in the center of a mountain of fabrics, in her white tunic and navy blue breeches, full of pins and wrapped in more measuring tapes than she could count, and the all entire scenario was being closely observed and fiercely mocked by her supposed friend, Folken.  
  
"Fine, I'll be good. You," Estrela commanded, pointing a finger in the prince's direction, "Out." He opened his mouth, to begin a protest no doubt, but was silenced by a curt gesture from Mrs.Greain, the seamstress.  
  
"You heard the lady, my prince. Out." Folken's gaze shifted from Estrela to the craggy old woman and back again, then he let out a defeated huff and stood from his chair,  
  
"If you will excuse me then, ladies," He said flatly, turning for the exit,  
  
"Don't let the door hit you on your way out," Estrela called after him, then giggled as he glared at her over his shoulder. Mrs.Greain, the crotchety old bat, made a tsk sound in the back of her throat as she scurried around the room, searching for another hopeful fabric candidate. Estrela allowed her eyes to wander, she was so bored. Folken had been right, it was never too late for the crown prince. Despite the huge demand for dresses right before the harvest ball, he had managed to schedule a fitting for her eight moons before the ball, today. Then she saw it. While idly searching the room with her eyes, Estrela spotted exactly what she wanted.  
  
"Excuse me," She said loudly. Mrs.Greain popped out from behind a huge pile of cloth, all in various shades of pink. Estrela repressed a shudder. "What about that?" She asked, pointing to a half hidden bolt of silvery grey fabric in a far corner. The seamstress looked to where Estrela had motioned, then bustled over on her stocky little legs.  
  
"This?" She asked, holding up a roll of periwinkle cloth,  
  
"No, the silver," Estrela said, motioning again, "It's right behind you." The squat woman turned and regarded the material.  
  
"It is rather nice," She mused, shuffling back toward Estrela. The woman held it up to Estrela's chest, tilting her head back to check the hue. "This would be easier if you would take those glasses off," The woman complained, "I can't tell the colour of your eyes,"  
  
"They are black." Estrela said shortly, becoming very uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.  
  
"Black?" Mrs.Greain exclaimed, "How unusual! I don't suppose you would let me see? I've done dresses for every complection and colouring, but I've yet to see a lady with black eyes," The woman had lost her harsh demeanor, and Estrela felt like she was actually trying to be kind, and was truly interested. What do I have to loose?  
  
"Alright," Estrela said with a bit of a sigh, "If you really want to see. But please don't be frightened. My eyes tend to disturb people. . ." Mrs.Greain stepped back, bolt of fabric in hand, and gave Estrela a wiry smile,  
  
"I've seen quite a few things in my day, lady. I don't think black eyes will bother me too greatly,"  
  
"If you say so," Estrela said, raising her hand to her face. Before she removed her glasses, Estrela closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She still wasn't sure that this was a good idea.  
  
Slowly, Estrela opened her eyes and turned to face Mrs.Greain. The look on the woman's face was nothing Estrela would have anticipated. She expected shock, fear, maybe even disgust, but not the wonder, the absolute awe she saw on the woman's features.  
  
"You - You're absolutely beautiful!" The dressmaker cried, bringing her free hand to her mouth, "Why would you want to hide eyes like those?" Estrela was speechless, no one, besides her family, and Folken, though never outright, had ever called her beautiful. Estrela was very confused.  
  
"You don't know what the Cisne are, do you Mrs.Greain?"  
  
"The what?" Now it was making a bit more sense, the woman knew nothing of her people.  
  
"Never mind Mrs.Greain," Estrela said with a small smile, "thank you for the compliment. Now, how about that fabric?"  
  
About a glass later found Estrela outside the dress shop where Folken waited. She felt better now, with her jerkin back on and the exhaustion of the fitting over with. Mrs. Greain had told her that her dress would be ready in two moons, and had promised, after Estrela's coxing, to keep the frills to a minimum.  
  
"Finally," Folken breathed, straightening from where he leant against an overhang. It was getting colder, and cloaks were required for a comfortable market experience. Estrela adjusted hers, its thick brown wool a familiar comfort, and raised an eyebrow at Folken. "I didn't know getting an outfit for a ball could take that long," He continued. Estrela gave him a mischievous smile,  
  
"You think we're done?" A groan was all she received in response.  
  
The rest of the day was spent shopping for accessories and the like, none of which Folken were allowed to see. No matter how much he begged, Estrela would show him nothing, not even tell him the colour of her dress. It was hilarious.  
  
At last, just as the sun was setting, they began the walk back to castle. Both Folken's and Estrela's arms were loaded with boxes and bags, well, only boxes for Folken because bags were to easy to peek into. The decorations around the city were wondrous, even in the fading light, and the air was crisp, not damp. Festivities would begin in two days, and the mood of the entire country was filled with anticipation and excitement. Folken had told her that the only celebration which was more looked forward to was the Midwinter Festival, which would take place the last week of Green and the first week of Black. Estrela had been confused by that, but then Folken had explained the differences between Fanelian and other calendars, such as Asturian. Estreal had found it fascinating, especially that Fanelian New Years did not begin until the first moon of Green, or rather, White on their calendar, whereas most other places began their New Years in Black. Estrela realized that it could become very bewildering if you weren't careful.  
  
They were almost to the gates now, and the guard rushed to open them. Estrela was glad to be back, the day had been very tiring, and, as she had slowly been beginning to realize, she liked it at the Fanelian palace, it was almost like her home now. That was a warm thought, and Estrela couldn't stop herself from smiling.  
  
They made their way inside and Folken walked Estrela to her new chambers, larger than she had when she first arrived, and all done in a forest green theme. She loved them, she now had a good sized bedroom, a larger bath, and a sitting area. It was the best she had ever lived.  
  
"Come on in," she said to Folken as he held the door open for her. Estrela walked through the sitting room and into her sleeping quarters. "Set those packages on the bed please," She said briskly, opening the dark mahogany armoire and tucking her bags inside. She then turned back around to see Folken rooting through one of her boxes. Estrela was about to yell at him for not respecting her privacy when she saw him stiffen, slamming the lid back on the box and turning away from the bed. When he saw that she had noticed him, Folken turned the brightest shade of red Estrela thought possible, and began to stutter unintelligibly.  
  
"Shush," She silenced him abruptly and moved to see what he had been digging through. The prince tried to block her path, but she was too quick, grabbing hold of the box and flitting to the other side of the room before he could catch her. Pulling the lid off the offending package, Estrela found the new underclothes she had bought that morning. He had found her panties. Estrela found the whole situation far to funny to be embarrassed, but Folken apparently did not feel the same,  
  
"Estrela," He managed to stammer, "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know what it was. . . Oh, I'm so sorry!" Estrela couldn't help herself, she burst into uncontrollable laughter. Folken looked very bewildered now, which made Estrela laugh harder. It took her a moment to recover, holding her sides and wiping her eyes.  
  
"I hope you have learned something today," She wheezed suddenly, "About privacy." Folken frowned at her, his brows knitting together,  
  
"I've learned that you can be quite mean." He replied, crossing his arms,  
  
"Now come on," Estrela said, moving toward the prince again, setting the box back on the bed. The way Folken's eyes avoided it was sidesplitting, and almost put Estrela into giggles again, "Don't be like that. It was funny," Estrela gathered up all of the packages lying atop her mattress, placing them in her closet along with everything else, and dropping her cloak and jerkin inside as well. She straightened to see Folken still glaring at her. Estrela huffed, "What could I do to make you feel better? You seem very. . . distraught," She punctuated the last word with a small snicker, and the prince's scowl deepened. She moved to stand beside the night table, hands on her hips, "Oh, come on Folken! You can't take a joke- ah!" Estrela shrieked as she was tackled onto the bed, long fingers appearing out of nowhere to mercilessly tickle her sides and stomach. She was breathless, she was pinned, she couldn't stop laughing. Then it hit her.  
  
"Folken!" She wailed, her voice suddenly serious and pain filled, "Stop! Please!" He was off her in an instant, and Estrela curled into a protective ball on the disheveled mattress.  
  
"Estrela!" Folken cried, kneeling beside her on the bed, "Estrela what's wrong?" He was absolutely terrified, completely confused, but Estrela registered none of this, locked in a cell of agony. It never hurt this much, not since it first happened. . . Gods what was wrong, why did it hurt so badly?  
  
Folken, having received no response, rushed toward the door to call for help, but Estrela's weak voice stopped him in his tracks.  
  
"F-Folken. . . Folken, don't. . . I'm fine, really." Estrela tried to sit up, but the pain was not lessening. God Gods, there was something very wrong,  
  
"Estrela," Folken exclaimed again, rushing over to support her, "What happened? Oh, Gods Estrela, what's wrong?" He seemed so afraid, and that hurt Estrela even more. She should have told him, he deserved to know, but she couldn't, still couldn't. . .  
  
"I-I have an old injury. . . sometimes it hurts, never like this though," Her breath was coming in ragged gasps as she leaned against the prince.  
  
"Where? How? Why?" Estrela let out a small hiss of distress and her eyes fluttered shut,  
  
"Please, don't ask questions right now. . . just hold me. . ." Folken was still in a panic, but kept motionless with his arms wrapped lightly around Estrela as her breathing slowly evened out. After a few long moments her eyes opened, and she straightened slightly, very stiffly, away from the prince,  
  
"Thank you," She said, her voice still small and weak, "It's easing off a little now,"  
  
"What happened, can you tell me now?"  
  
"I told you, it's and old injury. It's nothing to worry about, sometimes it just hurts,"  
  
"It's more than that Estrela, you were in agony. Please, tell me. I thought you trusted me," The last statement cut Estrela very deeply, I'm making him doubt himself, doubt our friendship . . .  
  
"I do trust you Folken, it's just . . . these wounds are very painful to talk about, and they happened a long time ago. I've tried to forget, put it all behind me. It normally doesn't hurt me that bad anyway, I don't know what happened this time . . ." Folken still looked unconvinced and hurt, but Estrela couldn't say anymore. The pain in her back and sides was receding, but the growing tightness in her chest at the memories was just as bad. "Please, just give me time. I will tell you all about it, as soon as I can. I promise." She managed a weak smile, "Right now though, I'd really like to rest. You could . . .um . . .you could stay if you wanted . . ." The prince's expression softened,  
  
"Of course I'll stay. You scared me so much I don't think I'll ever be able to let you out of my sight again anyway," He began to stand, "I'll leave you to sleep, I'll just read or something . . ."  
  
"Folken, please. Could you just stay in here please? I really need to be close to somebody right now" Estrela knew she was blushing fiercely, but she wanted to be near someone. Folken sat back down, regarding her kindly,  
  
"What do you want me to do?" He asked  
  
"Just lay back, please," The prince complied, lying back against the goose pillows and headboard. Estrela moved, still shaking visibly, to lie beside him. After an uneasy moment, Folken reached out with his strong arms and pulled Estrela toward him, holding her gently while she trembled. He rubbed her back lightly, and Estrela knew he could feel the deep scars crisscrossing under her shirt, but he said nothing. Estrela was never more relieved. Slowly, the sharp pain disappeared, leaving only the constant ache she had become so accustomed to. It was utter bliss compared to a moment ago. She slid closer to the prince, resting her head on his shoulder and placing a single hand on his arm,  
  
"Thank you. . ." She whispered before falling into sleep.  
  
She was hanging by her arms, the leather cord tied about her wrists was biting into her skin and her shoulders almost out of joint. But that was nothing compared to the screaming of her back as the cane hit her again and again. She had long ago abandoned her oath not to cry out and each welt was accompanied by a bloodcurdling screech. She felt the familiar sticky warmth run down her back and legs, to pool on the floor below her, the floor her feet could not touch. The chanting voices around her became a hum against the pain, but that one, that one vile hiss of a voice, always broke through the haze of agony . . .  
  
"Say it, demon. Say it and it will end quickly, and you will be sent back to the underworld where you belong." That voice, so filled with hate, with malice. It took what little strength Estrela had left to find her speech,  
  
"Vá ao inferno, bastardo" Go to hell, bastard  
  
  
  
Then the world fell into darkness.  
  
AN/ Oh no, creepy, sad, going to get worse. For more information on the Gaean Calendar, visit Sarah-neko's site, Prettyboy from Hell (shrine to Dilandau) and go to the 'Scars on the Heart' section. While you're at it, why don't you read the story, or visit more of her sites? Escaboys is cool, I love her Folken, Gaddes, and Dryden shrines. Come on, tell her Gabe sent you, so maybe she'll come read this *^_^* Also, Hya there Empress! I love your story, and I love how good you are to review *^_^* And a big thanks to everybody else who reviewed, you guys are great. Ta all. 


	10. A Horribly Boring Chapter

AN/ Alright, I don't think I've ever been more sorry in my life as I am at this moment. I'm not even going to mention how long it's been since I've updated, let's just say far, far too long. Also, I'm extremely out of practice and flow with this story, so this is at the very least a boring chapter, and not very well written either. I rather hate it, but it's something. I'm very, very sorry you guys, for everything, and for those of you who didn't read my message in my bio, it was simply real life catching up to me. Bad stuff, that. Anyway, I'll try to get more chapters out ASAP, but I won't make any promises anymore, they tend to cause more bad luck than good. Thanks everybody ^_^  
  
Oh, also all words supposed to be italics will be within either for thoughts and the like, and * * for expressive words. I hope. It's really late though, so I may have missed some ^_^;  
  
Chapter Ten - A Horribly Boring Chapter  
  
Estrela awoke, conscious of the warm body beside her, the sweet musky smell of sleep all around her, and the absence of blood and burning pain. A dream. Gods above, just a dream. Estrela raised her eyes, bringing her after-nightmare trembling under control, and saw Folken's slumbering face next to her, so peaceful and soft. He looked so young while he slept. . . He is young, she reminded herself, very young. . .  
  
Is this indecent? She wondered, Sleeping with the crown prince, and I'm over eight times his age? They weren't really doing anything scandalous, both fully dressed, above the covers of the bed, nothing had happened. Still, having Folken's arms wrapped around her while she slept was something Estrela knew couldn't be a common occurrence, and was certainly nothing she had expected. It was quite nice though. . . Stop that! She chided herself, Either get up, or go back to sleep, but don't you dare lay here enjoying this, it's obscene!  
  
Normally Estrela agreed with that little voice in her mind, but in this case she was forced to dismiss what it was saying as pure rubbish. There was nothing obscene about liking to be near a friend, and it was impossible to be uncomfortable in this situation, so warm and soft. She closed her eyes again, but her mind was immediately filled with memories and voices. She snapped back to alertness, feeling cold sweat pop on her brow. How could someone feel this safe and this terrified at the same time? Estrela nestled closer to Folken, trying to feel his security without causing him disturbance. It worked fairly well, he only shifted once, head tilting to the side and grip on her tightening ever so slightly. Estrela let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and rested her head against the prince's shoulder, trying to ignore the fear eating at her insides. She couldn't remember everything that had happened, mostly just the pain, but she recalled the incessant chanting, some in Old Tongue, some in common, and that other voice, the only one who spoke to her. That repulsive, oozing voice that ran in and out of her head like a serpent, coming in the times of greatest pain to mock and torment her, or in the rare times of respite, to threaten and goad. Gods, she could still feel his stagnant breath on her cheek. Estrela shuddered and pulled Folken more snugly against the memories. Unfortunately, this move pushed the sleeping Folken over the edge, causing him to snort, suddenly coming awake, though not quite aware. He looked down at her, eyes still half lidded and slightly red,  
  
"Well, hullo Estrela. . ." He said in a voice still muffled with sleep, then something seemed to click in his mind, "Where am I?"  
  
"You are in my room, Folken," She answered him, trying to keep her voice calm, "Or rather, you're on my bed. Remember? I wasn't feeling all that well, and you decided to stay with me until I felt better. You must have fallen asleep." The prince seemed to grapple with simple thought, as only one just awaken can do, and then shook his head,  
  
"What time is it?" He asked after a moment. Estrela stole a glance at the bedroom window. Dammit, the curtains were closed.  
  
"I don't know," She said finally. Folken looked down at her again, his thoughts seemed to be becoming less muddled as he slowly awakened.  
  
"I should go," He said. Then, "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Better, Folken, thank you" Estrela replied, "That doesn't happen often, really. I don't know what caused it. Thank you for staying with me though, I appreciate it. And you don't have to go if you don't want. . ." She finished with a blush, very aware of her hand on his chest, the steady beat of his heart. Folken raised an eyebrow, "I had a nightmare," Estrela explained, blushing deeper and dropping her eyes, "I really don't want to be alone. . ." Estrela felt Folken's hand move from her back, and she was afraid she had offended him, but eased when she felt his fingers push her bangs from her face.  
  
"Of course I'll stay," He said softly, "You don't have to be scared," Then he paused, "I do have to cover up with something though, it's freezing in here." He was right. The after-sleep warmth had slowly diminished, and now Estrela felt the cool night air against her skin. It wasn't unbearable by any means, but it was uncomfortable. What worried Estrela now however was if being under the covers with Folken would prove more uncomfortable. The thought of it didn't seem to bother the prince though, and she was cold, so Estrela decided it was worth the risk. Both Folken and Estrela slid off the bed on opposite sides, pulling the quilts down and hopping back on the down mattress before the chill hit them too severely. This isn't so bad . . . Estrela thought. Then Folken moved.  
  
He seemed less willing to hold her in his arms now that they were covered, but he was pressed very closely against her body anyway. The feeling made Estrela shiver involuntarily, and the prince must have taken this as a sign of cold or fear. Turning and reaching out for her awkwardly, Folken drew her toward him again, which in turn caused another shake,  
  
"Please don't be afraid," He whispered into her hair, one hand rubbing the scars on her back, the other clutching her slender fingers, "I don't want you to be afraid anymore," Those simple words filled Estrela's ebony eyes with burning tears and brought a lump to her throat.  
  
"Thank you Folken . . ." She whispered as she hugged him tighter and buried her face in his chest. He made her feel so safe, so . . . loved? Estrela, lying cradled in the prince's arms, slowly allowed sleep to take her again, memories kept at bay by the steady beat of Folken's heart.  
  
True to her word, Mrs.Greain delivered Estrela's dress to the palace two moons after her fitting, making it the twentieth, and the first day of celebrations. Estrela had managed to sneak the package from where Mrs.Greain's messenger had waited at the main entrance of the palace all the way to her quarters without Folken noticing, but just incase she hid the large box inside her armoire with her box of new underclothes atop it. That would be sure to stop any nosey crown princes from digging around. The dress itself was amazing, all in dove grey silk with a small embellishment of cream lace around the rather scooped neckline. The back was high however, as per her request, and would cover all of her marred flesh. The bodice of the dress was embroidered in black with small flowers and leaves, as well as a small scalloped pattern around the cuff of the slight sleeves and the hem of the wide skirt. Along with the elbow length cream gloves, soft, grey leather ankle boots and small pearl comb she had bought, Estrela thought the outfit looked quite good. She wished she owned a bit more jewelry though, her new comb was her only piece, and she knew that all the other ladies attending would be glittering in droves of gems and gold. It makes no difference, She told herself sternly, I will go and I will look the best I can. A knock came on the door of her sitting room just as she was closing her closet and she hurried out to answer it. Folken stood in the hallway, wearing dark tan breeches, a long sleeved, white shirt, and a rather odd looking black vest that hung down to his mid thighs. He had his heavy grey cloak in his arms and looked very excited.  
  
"Hello Folken," Estrela said, wary of his expression, which was awfully mischievous looking, "Please come in," He smiled,  
  
"No." He said in a beaming voice, "You're coming out here." Estrela regarded him uncertainly,  
  
"Why am I coming out there?" She asked, suspicion and confusion clear in her voice,  
  
"Because," He said, that thrice damned grin still plastered on his features, "It is the first night of celebrations and you are coming with me into the city."  
  
"I'm what?" Of course he'd do this, dragging her to the ball wouldn't be enough,  
  
"You are coming into the city with me. The sun's just setting, which means the really good festivities are just starting. Come on, it'll be fun," He looked so damned happy, it was sickening. Estrela let out an exaggerated sigh,  
  
"Alright, come in for a moment while I change," She turned her back to the prince and started back for her bedroom,  
  
"You look fine, why do you need to change?" He called to her from the doorway,  
  
"Just humor me, please?" She said over her shoulder as she closed the door to her sleeping chamber. Moving to the armoire again, Estrela reached into the very back where her old traveling pack sat. Most of her things had been removed and hung or folded in the armoire, but there was one or two items remaining in the bag. Estrela pulled out a cloth wrapped bundle, tied with a length of strong cord and set it on her bed. Stuffing the pack back into the closet, Estrela carefully untied the package and unfolded the cloth, revealing a loosely cut white shirt of raw silk, and a long pleated skirt of dark brown cotton, both absolutely covered in a rainbow of embroidery and beads. The sleeves and neck of the shirt and the hem of the skirt were all fringed with strings of beads, making a curious clicking noise when they were moved. Estrela gazed down at the clothing, she had not untied the package in a very long time, but wearing these now seemed to prove her triumph over at least that part of her past. Yes, it still hurt her to even look at the outfit, but she could overcome that. No one but she would ever have to know that these were the clothes she was meant to be married in.  
  
It was strange, Estrela was expecting the clothes to be stale, musty smelling after so long, but they were curiously fresh, like something just washed. Even the tiny creases in the skirt were still intact, very odd indeed. Estrela thanked her people's amazing weaving skills and her mother's excellent seamstress abilities for the condition of the garments before slipping out of her shirt and breeches and pulling the skirt up over her hips.  
  
Folken had been amusing himself idly by twisting a corner of his cloak between his finger and thumb when the door to Estrela's bedchamber creaked open again. Turning his head, Folken felt his jaw drop open and his cheeks flush hot as he regarded the woman before him.  
  
"Ready," She said lightly as she adjusted her hair. It was the first time Folken had seen it out of a braid, it was now pulled up behind her head in the largest bun the prince had ever seen. It must have been bigger than both of his fists put together. These thoughts were dismissed as she brushed past him to get to her cloak lying on a chair beside the door. Folken stopped her with a hand placed on her arm and turned her around to face him.  
  
"Where did you get that?" He asked suddenly, painfully aware of his blunt manner and his immediate proximity to the gorgeous woman before him "I never seen the like of it in the market before," Estrela fingered the bead fringe around the deep 'v' shaped neck of her top before responding,  
  
"It didn't come from the market, it's mine from a long time ago,"  
  
"Then what was all that about not having anything nice besides that violet shirt? This is beautiful!" Dammit! I sound like a buffoon. Estrela blushed slightly before responding, her voice soft and slightly uneasy.  
  
"This is from a long time ago, a time that I found very painful to be reminded of until now. This is formal dress for my people, something I was allowed to take with me when I was exiled. It's – I've been too bitter to even look at this for a very long time. I had forgotten how good it felt, to be like a Cisne again . . ." She dropped her eyes to the cuff of her sleeve, running her hand over the ribbons of embroidery. The rainbow of colours twisted around her arms and across her chest, broken at random by small white birds or feathers, seemingly soaring through the maze of hues. Her skirt was the same, though the pattern seemed to flow up from her feet and fade when approaching her hips.  
  
"It's amazing," Folken said; in a tone that seemed convey he was speaking of more than the clothing, though it may have been her imagination. "The design looks like the one on your chall," Estrela felt her heart move into her throat, but the prince took the observation no further. Instead, Folken passed Estrela her cloak with another intense and badly hidden stare running down her body. She wasn't sure if she was flattered or embarrassed by the attention, but couldn't imagine what his reaction would be when he saw her in the ball gown if this caused him to look at her like that. Folken held the door open, motioning for Estrela to proceed into the hallway, then offered her his arm as they made their way through the corridor.  
  
"You're really being a gentleman this evening Folken," Estrela remarked with a hint of a smirk.  
  
"Are you implying, my lady, that I am not always gentlemanly?" The prince gasped with mock indignity.  
  
"Of course not, dear sir," She replied, imitating his tone, "I would never insult a lord's honor in such a way, no matter how foolish and uncouth he behaved at times," Folken stopped suddenly, grasping his chest with one hand and removing his arm from her's to bring his other hand to his forehead in a gesture of anguish  
  
"You wound me lady," He wailed, retreating a step, "I fear I shant ever recover, oh my heart!" The prince fell backwards against a tapestried wall and slid down onto the hardwood floor. He lay unmoving, head lolled to one side and eyes closed, for a silent moment, then slitted one eye open to glance up at Estrela, who stood above him with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. A smile grew over Folken's features at the exasperated expression Estrela was trying to keep over the giggles that were rising in her throat.  
  
"You," She said finally with a sigh, "Are ridiculous."  
  
"I know." The prince responded, opening his other eye and sitting up. Estrela shook her head with a laugh and reached down to help Folken stand.  
  
A short time later found the pair walking arm and arm down a street filled with laughing, celebrating people, and lit by countless coloured lanterns hung all around. It was truly an experience, the night air filled with music and voices, the aromas of savory food and spirits thick about everything, and the mutual emotion one of joy and merrymaking. Folken was leading Estrela through it all, reveling in her wonder and enchantment at the festivities around them. When they came upon one open square, Estrela greatly surprised the prince by pulling him into the center where many people had gathered to dance before a lively band. Folken had only a moment to register that the musicians looked to be part of the Egzardian merchant congregation that had arrived in the city the day before. There were both men and women playing, all very scantily dressed by conventional standards despite the chill in the air, but all seemed to be working up a good sweat. From their instruments, hand drums, flutes, stringed things, most Estrela were familiar with, came a tune so lively it made standing still next to impossible. Estrela had Folken by both hands now, pulled into the heart of the dance. Before the prince could think, Estrela had him spinning, in a wide, fast circle that cleared an area around them and focused the attention of every person in the square. Estrela then slowed, unaware of the attention, glass covered eyes devoted only to the man before her. She unfastened her cloak from her shoulders with one fluid motion and tossed it to her right. Then, one hand holding the front of her skirts, the other raised above her head, Estrela's feet began to move, almost too quickly to follow, talking her around the prince and spinning her in quick spirals as well. Folken tracked her movements as she went, completely in awed. After she had made a complete circle around him, Estrela reached in and grasped the prince's hands once again, bringing him sharply towards her and raising both of their linked arms to either side of their heads. Their faces were now mere finger widths away from each other and Folken could see the absolute joy, the complete abandon in Estrela's flushed features.  
  
"Alright," She whispered hoarsely, "Move your feet," At the panic in his face, Estrela added, "Just follow the music, you'll do fine," And then she began.  
  
Again, leading Folken, Estrela moved around the circle formed by the crowd of people now watching the display. This time, however, she did not twirl or spiral, but always kept herself dancing backwards and pulling Folken along. The prince finally seemed to catch the beat, moving his legs much slower than his partner, but making a valiant effort nonetheless. After a few rapid circles, Estrela lead Folken into the center of their ring. She straightened their arms between them, still keeping one hand clasped but releasing the prince's other.  
  
"Spin me," She hissed urgently, and after a moment's confusion, Folken lifted their joined hands and spun Estrela before him in tight revolutions. Her chestnut skirt flew outward, creating a huge halo of fabric and exposing more of her long legs than was truly proper, though her ethereal speed kept all but their shape indefinable. Folken stopped her spin when he felt her squeeze his hand, only to have her release his grip as soon as she had ceased, flipping backwards to land at the edge of the circle in a crouch, hands out to brace her on either side and skirt in a wide pool around her. It took the crowd an instant to realize that the music had stopped, and that the display was apparently over. Cheers erupted as Estrela stood from her kneel; adjusting her glasses, which, she was amazed, had stayed on her face throughout the dance. The applause and hoots being raised around her seemed to confuse Estrela for a moment, but as she gazed about the circle surrounding her, she turned to Folken, her face a brilliant red in the lantern light. He came towards her quickly retrieving her cloak from where she had tossed it into the crowd and wrapping it and an arm about her shoulders. The cheers continued, even the band joining in, as the prince lead Estrela out of the ring of people and then completely out of the square. The dance had begun again behind them, and everyone was far too busy to attempt to follow.  
  
"I can't believe I did that. . ." Estrela murmured when they stopped in a quiet alley.  
  
"Neither can I," Folken replied with a wiry grin, "You were fantastic." Estrela snapped her gaze to the prince's shadowed face, lit from behind by a dim blue lantern. Then she did something that surprised him completely, she began to laugh. Estrela threw her head back, a near-mad sounding cackle escaping from her throat as she brought her hands around her own waist.  
  
"I can't believe I *did* that!" She cried again, this time delightedly, bringing her head back down to face Folken. She wore the broadest smile the prince had ever seen. Before he could blink, Estrela had her arms wrapped tightly about his back and her face pressed into his cloaked shoulder, "Thank you," She whispered into the wool, "That was wonderful. . ." Folken, having been frozen in shock until this point, made a point to hug Estrela tightly in return, still a bit unsure of why he was being embraced, but not complaining. Suddenly, much to Folken's disappointment, Estrela pulled away, keeping her hands on his back but putting a goodly space between their bodies, "I want to go back the castle now," She said, with the smile still warming her face, "I feel like just being with you," Folken was sure his eyes were bulging, but Estrela did not seem to notice and continued, "There are too many people around here, it's too stuffy. Could we just, oh I don't know, just sit in our garden or something?" Folken swallowed his heart back down into his chest and smiled at his companion,  
  
"Of course," He said brightly, trying to keep face while he shook off his fluster. Estrela misinterpreted his cover and gave a small frown,  
  
"If you're disappointed we can stay. I'm sorry, I'm being selfish. You took me all the way here and all I want to do is go back. I haven't even given you much of a chance to have fun. I'll stay. . ."  
  
"Estrela," Folken began, raising her chin with his hand from where she had dropped her gaze. He smiled softly at her, his eyes appearing almost as black as hers in the dim light. "Estrela, I would much rather spend one glass just with you than spend my whole life at a festival like this. And how could I enjoy myself if I knew you were uncomfortable? I will gladly go back to the castle with you, I've had about as much fun as a prince can have at one of these celebrations without causing a scandal. . ." He trailed off with a wink, and Estrela giggled before pulling him forward again into her embrace.  
  
"How's this for a scandal?" She mumbled into his shoulder, "Crown prince beset by white haired dancer in alleyway?" It was Folken's turn to laugh, lifting Estrela slightly in his grasp and spinning her as much as the narrow alley would allow,  
  
"To be besotted by one such as you, m'lady, is worth such as a scandal," Estrela pulled away slightly, giggles taking her again,  
  
"Dullard, besotted means drunk," Folken shot her a crooked grin and set her back down on the cobbles, offering an arm. She gladly took it still snickering madly and rested her head on his shoulder as they left the relative quiet of the alley and wove back into the mob of joyous, celebrating, and some more than a little besotted themselves, people.  
  
AN/ Seriously you guys, don't tell me how bad that was. I try to do better next time, really ^_^;; I'm going to go slink off into a dark corner now. Tootles. 


	11. Sunrises and Roses

AN/ Okie dokie, here's another one, just to alleviate a little of the guilt I've been feeling for leaving you guys for so long. This one's a bit better, though still boring, but the ball's coming next, so something interesting has got to happen there, right? Right. ^_^ Oh, and I'll try my best to catch up on all the stories I haven't reviewed in so long, all you great authors know who you are, but it will probably take me a while. . .  
  
There is some Old Tongue in this chapter, but I'm too lazy to translate it. Instead, it will be italic (if it shows up) and within ~ ~.  
  
Chapter Eleven – Sunrises and Roses  
  
Back at the castle, Folken and Estrela had spent the remainder of the evening chatting and joking about nothing in particular, simply enjoying one another's company while the sounds of celebrating filled the air. Neither one had paid much attention to the moons moving across the cloudless sky until the horizon over the garden wall began to turn a dark rose and the stars slowly began to fade. Folken was lying almost flat on his back, with only his head propped up slightly against the root of a tree. Estrela lay perpendicular to him, her pale head resting on his stomach while his fingers wove through her long bangs. He was telling her a story of Merle, Van's catgirl companion, whom Estrela had met a few days after arriving at the palace when she was tackled from above as she turned a corner and had to chase the little bugger down through half the castle to get her glasses back. Apparently, the kitten had gotten stuck between two spindles of a balcony and a piece of the railing actually had to be removed to get her out. Estrela could feel Folken's lean muscles move beneath her face as he laughed at the memory and she turned her head to look up at him, a joyous smile on her face. Then she noticed the lightening sky between the tree branches above his head,  
  
"Folken, it's almost dawn," She said. The prince swiveled his head around as much as his position would allow and looked behind him,  
  
"Wonder of wonders. . ." He murmured, then turned back to face the woman beside him, "Come on," He started, "I want to show you something," Removing his fingers from her hair, Folken allowed Estrela to sit up, then followed in suite, standing and helping her to her feet behind him. The prince began to walk quickly toward the doors leading back into the castle, and Estrela followed.  
  
"Where are we going?" She asked finally as they all but ran up another hallway,  
  
"You'll see," The prince replied mysteriously, "Hurry," Finally, after climbing a few flights of stairs and rushing through twisting corridors, Folken lead Estrela to the top floor of the palace and out onto a small balcony. He then proceeded to climb over the rail, gripping the outside wall of the castle,  
  
"What are you doing?!" Estrela cried as every bit of the prince left the floor and he was completely suspended from the smooth blue tile overhanging from the roof.  
  
"Just come on," He replied, swinging one long leg over and up onto the tiles and pulling himself up. Estrela was still very confused, but she'd be damned if she was going to leave Folken alone to fall and kill himself. Not bothering with the wall, Estrela jumped directly from the balcony to the roof edge, pulling herself up onto the tiles with one motion. The sun had not yet peeked over the horizon, but the eastern sky above the mist- topped mountains had been painted an incredible wash of pinks and oranges, golden yellows and deep crimson. It was utterly breathtaking.  
  
"Estrela," Folken whispered, placing a hand gently on her arm to break her trance, "Come here, this is nothing yet. . ." Estrela allowed herself to be lead to the highest peak of the roof and followed Folken down onto the tile as he sat. "Now," The prince murmured, shifting closer, "Watch." For a moment nothing happened, then a shaft of light broke over the mountains, a needle of golden flame piercing the lightening sky. More thorns of sun followed, then the slight curve of the slowly rising orb. Rays of light were beginning to slice across the landscape, turning the mountains from a hazy violet to sharp golden brown, shining across grassy fields, and shadowed treetops, leaves now orange and red from the arrival of autumn, then finally snaking their way across the roofs of the city's buildings, the indigo tile of the castle roof glistening like a huge gem. Folken heard Estrela's sudden intake of breath and tore his gaze away from the incredible sight before him to glance at the, to his mind, completely surpassing beauty beside him. Folken gripped the tiles beneath him, feeling them cut sharply into his fingers, though not enough to draw blood, trying to keep hold on what self-control he had left. Her ebony eyes were wide, unblinking, and gleaming with undisguised wonder. Her lips, oh Gods above, her lips, parted ever so slightly, coloured a soft, rosy hue in the growing light, wracked with small trembles in time with the rise an fall of her breathing as a light breeze shifted loose strands of hair across her brow. It was the perfect moment, where time's touch seemed to release, and it felt as if you could stay this complete forever. One of those silent moments of unequivocal bliss, of a happiness and a wholeness you never imagined you could feel. Folken felt enshrouded in such a moment and his hand began rise toward Estrela's face without a thought. Then, a moment before his fingertips would graze her soft cheek, the prince hesitated, his hand paused, his fingers faltered, until he finally squeezed them back into a fist, withdrawing his arm and silently cursing his cowardice. The magical moment was gone, replaced by feelings of embarrassment and failure. I'm useless. . .  
  
Estrela was completely oblivious to the distress of her companion, still fully engrossed and in awed by the now half risen sun. Folken dropped his eyes to his knees, unable to look at the woman beside him. Then he felt something warm grasp his hand, which lay clenched on the roof tile. Looking down, the prince saw Estrela's slender hand laying atop his fist and felt his cheeks flush as he relaxed his fingers to intertwine with hers.  
  
There, was that so hard? The increasingly irritating voice in Estrela's mind began. She had been so afraid to reach out, then when she had felt his hand stiffen under hers she was sure she had gone too far. She was about to pull away when he had loosened, grasping her fingers in return. Estrela was sure her heart was soaring, and she slid closer to the prince, not quite daring enough to move her eyes away from the horizon just yet. One more. . . With their upper arms now touching, Estrela tilted her head to the side, resting it lightly on Folken's shoulder. Estrela steeled herself, and darted her eyes toward his chest. His breathing looked uneven, sharp and rapid.  
  
"Folken," Estrela said, and despite her gentle tone the prince startled, "What's wrong?" Folken glanced down, one ebony eye peering up at him, and colored. By the gods, she was so close. . . Pull yourself together! A voice muttered sharply in his mind, She's just a woman, not a blasted *dragon!* Right, pulling together.  
  
"Nothing's wrong," Folken responded quickly, then lifted their clasped hands up from the roof and placed them on his knee. Space now free, the prince scooted over until the sides of their hips and legs as well as their arms were pressed against the others and his cheek rested on Estrela's hair. There, very good. Oh hush up, He shot back at that far too patronizing voice. Gods, she even smelled beautiful. . .  
  
That mood lasted all of a moment before, "Lord Folken!" A cry from within the palace below them jolted them both back to reality, "Lord Folken where are you?!" Damn, damn, damn.  
  
"Now who could that be. . ." Folken groaned sarcastically, lifting his head and letting go of Estrela's hand very reluctantly. Carefully, so as not to lose his precarious footing, the prince stood, pausing to balance for a moment before reaching to pull Estrela up behind him. To his surprise she was already on her way up, standing with none of the unease or wobbles he himself was struggling with. The roof had become slippery with the light morning frost, if he had been thinking Folken would have gotten them back inside before it had really set in. But here they were, with the voice below coming steadily closer. They *had* to get back inside before they were found up here. Folken had neglected to mention that he was not exactly allowed on the roof, at least not in the winter when the cold made it treacherous, as it was now. If anyone spotted him up here . . . He would never here the end of it, especially with his mother.  
  
"Come on," He said, trying to keep his balance as his foot slid slightly down the tile, "Give me your hand. It's slippery now, I'll help you down." Folken raised his head as he heard a small snort of laughter. Estrela had the back of her hand held to her mouth, trying and failing to stifle the giggles that were quickly escaping.  
  
"You," She managed to choke out, "Want to help me down?" She began laughing harder then before, "You're barely keeping yourself standing, let alone helping someone else off this roof. Here, let me help *you*." She took a quick step forward, grasping Folken's wrist and waist with her arms and slinging his arm over her shoulder. Before Folken knew what had happened they were off the roof, standing side by side on the balcony they had entered by. Folken blinked rapidly, sending a confused glance in Estrela's direction as she brushed off her skirt, but when she noticed she simply shrugged. Before the prince could comment however, the cry which had first disturbed their solitude cut through the air once more,  
  
"Lord Folken!" Straightening his tunic and vest, the prince cleared his throat and called out,  
  
"Yes, I'm right here!" There was a surprised noise from within the halls before them, then a scuffling of footsteps and a crash. A muffled curse and more scuffling followed. Estrela looked at Folken, he seemed to be making no move to go inside the castle itself, content to lean against the balcony railing, fiddling with the tie of his tunic.  
  
"What are you doing now?" She asked, dumbfounded,  
  
"We can't make it too easy for them to find me," The prince explained easily, "It's my Mother's doing, she's far too protective. She has the entire palace staff on guard for me all the time, as you can clearly hear I can't even have a full evening to myself before they start looking for me." He motioned to the doorway leading into the castle, where the footsteps were coming steadily and rapidly closer, "They should be here . . ." The prince began once again, ". . . Now." He finished just as a page ran by the door, slid to a halt, and dashed back to the doorway. The boy was breathing heavily and was covered in a light dusting of pottery shards. The crash must have been him, Estrela thought idly.  
  
"Lord Folken," The boy wheezed, bowing his head, "The Queen bade we find you before morning, my prince" Folken gave the boy a slightly sardonic grin,  
  
"I bet she did . . ." He murmured, too quietly for the page to hear, but just loud enough for Estrela to catch. Then he turned to her, one eyebrow raised and hands spread in a gesture of defeat, "She means well, really." Attention back to the boy now, "You may tell the Queen that I am well and back in the castle. The lady Estrela and I were just going for an early breakfast." The prince glanced at Estrela sharply, and, after a brief moment to grasp the hint, she smiled at the page and nodded. The boy seemed far too tired to argue or question, and bowed quickly before taking his leave of the pair. When his now dragging footsteps had faded, Estrela turned to Folken, one hand on her hip and dark eyes squinted ever so slightly. She seemed to consider something about the prince before her, then shook her head and with a smile said,  
  
"I believe you spoke of breakfast?" Folken responded with a good-natured chuckle, standing from his slouch against the balcony rail and offering an arm to Estrela,  
  
"Of course, m'lady," He said with a flourish of his free hand, "Although we may have to wake the cooks . . ."  
  
It was today. Weeks of waiting, and it was finally today. Estrela could not remember ever being so nervous. The ball was today.  
  
"A royal delegation from Asturia is arriving today as well," Folken had told her early that morning, "Their king, Aston, his three daughters, and some of his court." Estrela remembered clearly the wiry grin which had overtook the prince's face as he continued, "I've met all but the youngest girl before, a few years ago. The oldest, Marlene, is my age, and a bit of priss, very princess-like, very proper. She was quite depressing too, wouldn't come out of her rooms, for whatever reason, I can't even remember now. The other one, Eries, was more down-to-earth, though awfully stoic, at least she wasn't as prim, and remarkably bright. About four years younger, and had almost caught up to me in books read. And not just the poetry and romantic drivel they force on most girls, but solid novels. It was fantastic to have someone to talk to about my books, especially the science texts, since no one here, until you came of course, had shown any interest in them." Folken had then voiced hope that the youngest girl, Millerna, who was Van's age, turned out to be just as bright, if not a tad happier than her middle sister, "If she gets Marlene's personality, and Eries' intellect, the girl could be an incredible ruler, of whatever country she married into."  
  
Estrela had been sitting across a window ledge in a hallway, back against the frame and legs bent up on the base, whittling a small chunk of wood into a dragon shape for Van, when she had met the first princess. The tiny one, Millerna, came shooting around a corner, frills and lace flying behind her as she sped up the hall. A passing glance at Estrela, who raised her glass-covered eyes, was all it took for the young girl to skid to an abrupt halt, and approach the older woman carefully.  
  
"Hello there," Estrela said, pausing her carvings but not leaving her seat,  
  
"What are you doing?" Bright blue eyes glittering with curiosity, golden hair falling out of its elaborate ribbons, cheeks flushed from her run, the girl was very peculiar looking. Human colouring was still so odd to Estrela, all the different shades of skin, hair, and even eyes. Every Cisne ever know looked exactly like Matriz, the Mother, with "hair of alabaster, flesh like golden honey, and eyes darker than the depths of night" Or so the legends said. Humans and beast people seemed to have no such distinction, and their complexions were so varied it was sometimes overwhelming. Estrela regarded the girl before her with interest, thankful she had thought to wear her glasses today.  
  
"I am carving," She replied, holding the lump of wood up for the girl's inspection. The princess eyed the object with interest, then shifted her gaze back to Estrela,  
  
"What's your name?" Estrela smiled, the girl was certainly inquisitive,  
  
"Estrela," She answered, "Estrela das Sombra. And I believe you are the Princess Millerna, from Asturia." The young girl gave a small smile and a curtsy. Estrela took this as an affirmative and continued, "Pleased to meet you, your Majesty, but may I ask, is it Asturian custom to allow young princesses to run about strange castles unattended, or are those footsteps I hear coming down toward us the guardians you were running from not a moment ago?" The girl blanched as she raised head in the direction from which she had come, sapphire eyes widening and smile quickly dropping. Then the girl was off again, barreling away down the corridor in the opposite direction of the approaching people. Estrela couldn't help but smile at the retreating form of the young princess as she raised her knife once again to meet the wood in her hand. The window beside her was opened a crack, allowing Estrela to brush the shavings outside, which is what she was doing as a mob of four handmaidens and one very disgruntled-looking steward turned into the hallway from the direction from which the princess had appeared shortly before and continued their gasping scurry. They passed, then halted as the steward turned back to face Estrela, face coloured the strangest crimson hue. He puffed for a moment, seeming to collect himself, then spoke,  
  
"You there girl," He wheezed, tone still disconcertingly arrogant, "Have you seen a young girl run by here, in a pink dress?"  
  
"About this tall?" Estrela asked, lowering her hand to just about the height of the sill she was lounging on, "With curly blond hair and huge blue eyes?"  
  
"Yes!" The man replied tersely, "Which way did she go?" Estrela smiled sweetly, she could tell this man was very, very pompous, just from his scornful tone, as if it lowered his status to speak with one such as her. It was laughable.  
  
"I didn't say I had seen her," Estrela responded, smile growing into a grin at the bulging of the steward's eyes. He had not expected this,  
  
"Now see here--"  
  
"Estrela!" It was Folken, come dashing up the hall, "Estrela," He said again as he approached her, paying no heed to the handmaidens, or to the steward, who now looked a bit deflated, "Have you seen a young girl anywhere around here? The Asturians seem to have lost their youngest princess,"  
  
"She went that way," Estrela replied, pointing down the corridor with her blade, "Then turned left. That was just a short time ago, so she shouldn't be far. Do you want my help?" Folken smiled,  
  
"No, thank you. I think I've got it. And shouldn't you be getting ready? The ball is tonight, and it's just about midday now --"  
  
"I was just about to go start," She interrupted kindly, tucking her dagger back in her belt, and brushing her shirt off once again, "You go find the girl," Folken smiled again as Estrela swung her legs off the window ledge,  
  
"Alright, I'll see you later then," He said, then seemed to take notice of the small crowd beside them, "Hello," He addressed them with a small bow, "If you'll all forgive me," And then he was off down the hall. Estrela looked at the steward once again, his face had gone from an almost purple shade of red to quite pale as he stared openmouthed at the girl he had been sure was merely a servant a moment before, and who, as it turned out, was on very familiar terms with the crown prince of this country. The maids were simply giggling quietly behind him.  
  
"I too must beg your pardon," Estrela began, standing completely and pocketing the small wooden carving in a pouch at her belt, "As the prince said, the Harvest Ball is tonight, and I must prepare," She gave a small bow, much like the prince had a moment before, "Sir, Ladies," And then she was gone as well.  
  
The steward was speechless.  
  
"Sit still, m'lady, please!" Another itch on Estrela's nose caused her to twitch again, and all of the hair piled on the right side of her head fell back onto her shoulders. A string of oaths followed from the maid who was trying to form some style with Estrela's lengthy and unruly locks. The girl had without doubt never worked with Cisne hair before, and its different texture from a human's seemed to be causing her problems. They had been trying to do anything with it for over to two glass now, and Estrela was becoming perturbed,  
  
"Let me alone!" She cried finally, snapping the maid's hands away and standing quickly, "I'll do it myself, thank you for trying," Then she disappeared into the small privy adjoining her bedchamber, which the maids had invaded several glass earlier. A short time later she emerged, alabaster mane pulled back from her face by two thin braids, which then met behind her head and merged into a single long plate. The remainder of her hair was mostly loose, falling far down her back, with the exception of a few small braids interspersed throughout. The result was surprisingly elegant, though still keep an edge of rawness, unlike the perfectly sculpted quaffs which had become so popular among the upper class. Estrela loved it.  
  
Ignoring the disapproving looks she received from the maids, Estrela padded across the room to her wardrobe, the doors opening with the slightest squeak. Inside, aside from her ordinary belongings, hanging and lying neatly in the armoire, was her dress, her grey boots, and the small pearl comb. He maids had already done her make-up, a powdery rouge for her cheeks, and a paste to redden her lips. She refused to even try the pallid powder meant to lighten her skin, insisting it would either make her look ill, or like a porcelain doll, and neither one of these was favorable in Estrela's opinion. She still had no idea what to do about her eyes, she would have to wear her glasses, and that would prove very inappropriate, but necessary she knew. Ordinarily, Estrela would have dismissed the maids before even thinking about getting undressed, however under these circumstances, and considering that she had absolutely no chance of getting the dress on properly without at least a little assistance, she set her jaw firmly and turned back to the bed with the gown in hand. Spreading it neatly on the quilt, Estrela quickly began undoing the buttons of her shirt, trying to get it off before the maids could react and try to help her. Unfortunately, the girls had been trained very well, and were over to her before she had two of the fasteners undone. Oblivious to Estrela's protests, the maids had her standing in only her small clothes in mere moments. The gasp Estrela expected followed, as the women caught sight of her scars, but the oldest of the maids hushed them quickly and proceeded to help the mortified Estrela into the dress.  
  
Tugging her long gloves up over her elbows, Estrela was faced with her final dilemma; her eyes. Would the maids let her leave without taking off her glasses? She thought not. She knew she had to, however, and the girls would just have to deal with it, or get out of her way. She tried her best to sneak out of the rooms while the maids were tidying up, and despite the unaccustomed bulk of the skirt she managed to make it out into the sitting room without their notice. She was a step away from the door, her freedom, when she noticed a small package lying on her favorite chair, a large wingback, with a seat wide enough for two people, if they were good friends. The package was about as wide as her two palms, and about three fingers thick. The box itself was simple, made of brown paper, but was tied with a ribbon of teal silk and a single wild rose of garnet red. It reminded Estrela of Folken's hair and eyes . . . Undoing the bow and setting the flower aside, Estrela lifted the lid to discover a folded note atop a bundle of more silk. Opening the paper, Estrela's eyes scanned the words, written in a flowing hand of red ink. It was in the Old Tongue as well, and she felt her eyes widen.  
  
~Estrela,  
  
Although it seems a crime to cover such beauty, I knew you would be in a dilemma. I may have forgotten to mention that masks are worn to the Harvest Ball, so I had this one specially made. I apologize that I am not able to escort you personally, princely duties, but I'm sure you will find your companion acceptable. Save me a dance?  
  
Yours,  
  
Folken~  
  
Estrela was very surprised, but smiled as she pulled the silk away, revealing what appeared to be a half-mask covered in more grey silk, painted with small white flowers down either side. It matched her dress so perfectly that Estrela had a sneaking suspicion the prince had peeked around in her closet. She lifted the mask from the box and brought it to her face. It was solid, but soft on her skin, and didn't quite fit. Lowering it once more, Estrela remembered her glasses, removed them from her face, then tried the disguise again. Wonderful.  
  
Tying the ribbon fasteners behind her head to secure the guise, Estrela popped her head back into her bedroom, glancing quickly at herself in the long mirror. Her eyes were shadowed enough by the mask that they simply looked very dark, but human. It was superb. She flew back into the sitting room, grabbing Folken's rose and the ribbon as she passed, tucking the flower behind her left ear and fastening the ribbon around her ankle just above her left boot. What she was going to do with the cloth escaped her, but she felt more comfortable with it for some reason. All this was done just as a knock came at the door. Estrela moved toward it, and reached out to turn the knob. She had never worn such long, soft gloves before, and the feeling was odd. Her smile grew wider as Estrela pulled open the heavy door, revealing her apparent escort for the evening.  
  
AN/ Alright, here's a story for all of you who care. It has nothing to do with Open Road, just a little of what has happened to me while I was away. Last Monday, the 6th of May I believe it was, I was playing lacrosse. Now, I'm not extremely sporty, but I'm really good at a good few, and average at many. Lacrosse is not one of my best. My left ankle, which is bad anyway, having been broken and sprained before, was kicked quite hard during the game and twisted under me. Luckily, I caught myself before I fell or this story could have been much worse. It hurt, quite a lot, so I sat down and got some ice for it. I was pretty sure it wasn't broken. At the urging of my friends, and to the horror of my Phys.Ed teacher, I said I wouldn't sign out and go home, but rather I'd just, and I quote "Walk it off." I'm an idiot. The incident happened at about 9:50am, I went to two more classes, up and down countless flights of stairs, before noon, at which point I went home where my mother commented on my limping, "What did you do now?" I was then taken to the hospital, against my will, and waited for about four hours until it was discovered that I had sprained my ankle once again, and would have to wear an air cast (or godforsaken huge plastic space boot thing) for two weeks. Goodie. I have now been dubbed "Gimpy" or "Duck Foot" and been asked to quack on several occasions. Great, really. Bye everybody. Pray for my sanity. 


End file.
